The Consequence of Miracles
by Travis Birkenstock
Summary: Sometimes, the miracles we plead for come at a terrible price. AH, dark subject matter.
1. Chapter 1

**The Consequence of Miracles**

**This story comes with a very strong content warning. If you're not okay with dark adult themes, I'd say maybe don't read it. Nothing graphic.**

**Chapter 1**

For some, youth and innocence eases away in a lazy march of days and nights, an indefinable series of happy or sick little moments. Seemingly grave secrets among friends, the obligatory first sips of stolen, lukewarm beer leading to cheap brown booze on the weekends; slippery fingers practicing and learning, turning to skill then know-how then wanting. There are sweet, heart-pounding declarations and crass words that arouse and useless fears that keep you up at night.

You have no idea that your worries are insipid and stupid, however, until they are put into horrifying perspective. And that, I think, is how childhood often comes to a sad little end- eagerly, we push it out fist first in favor of the rush of seedy nights and questionable decisions. We call it boredom or sophistication or the need for _more_ and _right now_, never realizing we are losing a certain magic that belongs only to youth, never understanding that once we push it away, it doesn't come back.

I think that's the way it goes, anyway. Unless you are an unlucky one, when youth doesn't float or slip from your all too-willing and open fingers. For the unlucky ones, it goes like this: you are on that same track that all youth forges through at reckless speeds, coasting along in waves of hilarious moments and shimmering, sparkling light, but the laws of inertia- the fundamental rules of a physical existence that you never bothered to pay much attention to- bombard and shove and all of it- the laughter, the light, the innocence- it all goes away in an single instant; a moment so full of impact and specificity that it has a time and a date.

For me, anyway, it has a time and a date.

**June 3, 2008**

I was bent over the kitchen sink, the warm water running. I used my mom's threadbare dishcloth to scrub the red _# 4_ from my right cheek and the initials _EC_ from my left, practically rubbing them raw in my haste while keeping one eye on the clock above the microwave.

"Slow down, Bella. It'll be his birthday for the rest of the day," my mom laughed, her hair windblown, her cheeks sun-kissed from sitting in the bleachers all day, just as I had been. Just like all of Forks had been.

"Where you off to, anyway?" my dad asked, his head poking in the fridge.

"It's his sixteenth birthday," I replied, as if this were somehow an answer to the question.

"I know that. The whole damned town knows that," my dad muttered, emerging from the fridge with a loaf of Roman Meal and a bottle of beer. "I think they declared it a bank holiday. Did we even get mail today?"

"Stop it, Dad," I said, digging through my big, crocheted bag for a tube of Chapstick. "You sound jealous." My mom took the bread from his hands and lay it on the counter, a small smile on her face.

"More like knowledgeable," he amended with a single nod of his head before swatting lightly at my hair. "I wasn't born yesterday, Bella. No drinking out there, especially if he's driving around. You call home for a ride."

"Dad, it's not even like that. We're-"

"Fifteen."

"He's sixteen today, remember?"

"Just say 'okay, dad. Best dad in the world, most handsomest Dad, ever, I will do exactly as you say,'" he intoned, twisting the top from his beer. He waggled his jaw over the rim from side to side, making his mustache dance and mock like he had done for as long as I can remember.

"Okay, Best Dad Ever," I said, my voice taking sarcasm to new heights of teendom.

"You forgot most handsomest," my mom chided, pointing a mustard-covered knife in our direction.

"I'm not saying that. Goodbye," I scoffed, but my dad dodged and stood in front of me.

"Home by eleven."

"Thirty."

"O'clock. And look, in a former life, I was a boy, believe it or not. I do know things."

"Like what?" I asked. "How to match your loafers with your Dockers?"

"Like. what it's like to be sixteen with a new license on a beautiful spring day after winning the biggest ball game of my life on my birthday and then going to pick up the coolest girl in the world."

I almost blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, Dad."

"And having a penis. I know about having a penis and then going to pick up the coolest girl in the world. So don't you go and get carried away, now."

"Dad, you didn't play baseball. And your birthday is in December."

"But I was the coolest girl in the world," my mom called out. I turned to fix her with narrowed, disgusted eyes and tried to hold in my laughter as she cut the crusts off of my dad's sandwich. She held it out to him and he swaggered over, grabbing it and taking an exaggerated, over-large bite. He chewed thoughtfully before turning to look at me again.

"Hey, I played take-no-shit dodgeball in Loser PE. It makes no difference, I was still a boy with a penis, and your mother here was still the coolest girl in school. And now, here we are," he said significantly, waving his sandwich in a wild circle to include all three of us. "That just goes to show you it all always comes down to one thing."

"Goodbye," I said with a shudder before he could articulate what the one thing was. I already knew anyway; I had been read the teenage pregnancy riot act every time I went out since that first night Edward had thumped a little too hard on the screen door and a startled Charlie and Renee watched helplessly as I rushed out the door with a breathless "hi", my bright red face and happy eyes studiously avoiding the stunned looks of my parents.

"Hell of a game, though," my dad called to my back, and I just knew he was doing that practice bat swing he does constantly, sandwich included."That kid is one helluva ballplayer."

Here is the sickest and most deceiving part about everything that came before midnight that day: for the first time in my averagely charmed life, I was grateful to simply be.

I waited on the curb in the late afternoon sun, swinging my bag around my feet and smiling at nothing but my own shadow and the deceiving calm of the air around me. I knew it then but now I know it with sharp, jarring clarity: when the sun starts its meandering path toward eventual darkness is when deviant and devious possibilities come out to play, and you never know what mischief there might be to discover.

It was the first time I can recall pausing and thinking _things are perfect_. It was one of those sunshine blue days when the music should be loud and everything, _everything_ is so sublime that you can't help but smile and know for sure you are a lucky one. Later, I would wonder if I hadn't jinxed lives just for pausing and recognizing my own happiness.

Edward pulled up, the radio blaring a Johnny Cash CD I'd stolen from my dad ages ago. There was mud on the rims of his used pickup, a blue beast of a truck that used to sit on blocks in his backyard, barring the times he not-so-secretly took it out to tear up the back roads of our small town. He'd been driving _sans_ license for at least a year now.

He leaned over to open the door from the inside and peered up at me, dark, damp hair drying in every direction due to the open windows, eyes lit with victory and the post-celebration on his mind. He looked me over from top to bottom without moving his head, a slow, mischievous smile transforming him from a handsome boy into the suggestion of something that would devastate me and other girls and probably a lot of boys for decades to come.

"Well if it isn't the star pitcher of Forks High," I said with fake apathy, hauling myself up into the truck. I put a hand to my forehead. "Don't you have fans to appease or something? What are you doing here?"

"I heard you put out," he replied, making his gum crackle with a flourish and chomping his mouth shut into a deceptively sweet smile before shifting the truck into drive.

"Yeah, well. Only for boys in white tights."

"They aren't tights," he said for what was probably the hundredth time in the past eighteen months. He yanked on my ponytail before taking off.

I scooted over and kissed his cheek, then his neck. When I moved up to his ear I could feel his smile, the bristle on his jaw moving against my chin with the motion of it. He turned to catch my lips once before gently palming my entire face and pushing me back into the seat. We were always physical then, always with the touching or the pushing or the shoving or the grabbing and pulling; kids on the edge of play and sex, I suppose, all of that energy and the constant need to be touching and feeling.

I put my feet on the dash and looked over at him.

"Really. Congratulations. _Champ_."

"Say it. Say I win everything," he said, poking me in the ribs. "Say I'm best."

"I saw you almost drop that ball at the top of the sixth."

In a flash his long arm reached over, grabbing my thigh, doing that terrible squeezing tickle thing, making me yelp and cackle.

"Say I'm best," he demanded again, leaning forward, his torso halfway over the wheel, keeping up with my lopping thigh. "Say it or you'll never get this pretty leg back."

"You're the best," I shriek-laughed. He let go of my leg with a satisfied smile. "At sucking."

"Why you gotta be so mean?" he groaned. "All I do, day in, day out is think of you, and this is how you repay me?"

"You think of how to get into my pants, Cullen."

"Oh, right." He turned and grinned at me, his eyes making an obvious path from my face down to my lap.

"Stop it, pitcher, or I'll break that arm," I drawled, readjusting my ponytail as he laughed. He snapped his gum again and turned to face the road.

"No baseball talk. Tell me something _you're_ good at," he insisted. I faced the window with my smile, thinking up something good for this particular, familiar game. "You'd be a good ballerina."

"Very funny," I said, turning to flick his ear.

"Well, you smell too good to be a lady of the night. How about a mermaid siren on legs?"

"Stop it."

"Throwing knives in the circus?"

"And at birthday boys."

"Ouch."

"Not _all_ birthday boys."

"This boy?" he asked, pointing at himself.

"Undecided."

"You'd be good at collecting quarters from laundromat machines. That's a skill."

"You're so dumb right now."

"I don't think anyone will pay you to insult nice birthday boys."

"I'll do that pro bono, pal."

"You could be mine," he said seriously. He reached to let one finger drag over the very faded initials I had tried to scrub off of my cheek.

"Always that," I said.

"Yeah. Hey."

"What?"

"You know. All this baseball stuff…you know I'd follow you anyway and anywhere, right?"

"What if I went to Siberia?"

"Me, too."

"A convent?"

"Me, too," he said, then turned to me, kind of serious. "People in this town find one thing to focus on, and I get it. I _get_ that people want to be excited about something, but to me, it's not everything. What I mean is... don't feel like what you want isn't just as important. Because it is."

"To who?" I laughed.

"Me."

"I'm weeks away from sixteen. I don't _want_ to do anything with my life yet. Not in that big, organized adult way."

"You will someday. And I'll want you to."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome. We gotta make a stop," he said, abruptly ending the serious talk. We never could talk about real things for too long without someone making a snide remark or the whole conversation devolving into kissing, not in those days. After yanking the visor down, he pulled on the hat he kept on the dash, settling it on his head with a few rough jerks. Peering into the lighted mirror, he licked both thumbs and slicked down his sideburns, all while still driving. Without seeming to see where he was going, he neatly palmed the wheel and turned at the next dusty road and right up to Joe's Stop-and-Shop. I knew the drill. I wait in the car and Edward goes in with a sheepish smile and a simple "yessir" and "thank you, sir," as Joe quickly and illegally rings him up for a couple of cases of beer or a fifth of booze and asks about the next game or his plans for the draft in a few years.

I whistled at him while he loped up to the store. He turned around, grinning at me over his shoulder from underneath the fraying brim of his hat. I kicked my shoes off and I let one leg hang out the window. Leaning back, I fiddled with the radio while I waited in the blink-inducing afternoon sun, playing with his shades and the radio.

Just as I was feeling a trickle of sweat slide down between my breasts, Edward swung the door open. He had an 18-er of beer in one hand and a grip of Red Vines in the other. Before I could so much as tweet at him again he became inundated by his adoring masses. He smiled politely at Mr. and Mrs. Cope, boosters of Forks High since their own kid had graduated back in the eighties. I could see them gesticulating, Mr. Cope mimicking that same baseball _thwock_ that everyone seemed to do around Edward ever since he turned thirteen. That _thwock_ attracted Mrs. Clearwater, who stopped, I presume, to congratulate him. And _that_ led to a couple of mom-looking types with a couple of kids in a wagon and then some old guy with overalls was there and some freshman girls and- I smiled at Edward, his good nature shining through in the easy smile he gave to every single person who wanted to talk to him. No one was less impressed by his own talent and good fortune than Edward Cullen. As I watched him keep talking, keep smiling, keep everyone happy- I also watched as he began to inch his way to the truck. He threw me a "help me the hell out" pleading look but I just grinned and wriggled my fingertips.

Three more people joined the fray before I showed some mercy on him. It had absolutely nothing at all to do with the fact that one of those people was Tanya Denali, a senior. Two weeks ago she was applying lip gloss and Oxycontin in the bathroom when I overheard her tell her friends she wanted to "ride number 4 raw." So, when she trotted up, I decided to save Edward from his over-adoring fan base.

"We can't have that back seat celebration if you don't get in the truck, Loverrrr!" I called out. Everyone paused and looked over at my foolish grin, at me, Bella Swan, the probably-bad-influence.

"Does your mother know you talk like that?" Mrs. Clearwater hollered back, her disapproval clear while the old guy in overalls glared at me. I ignored them both and reached out my arms to Edward, who was walking toward me now, silently laughing his ass off.

"You're such an asshole," he laughed, heaving the beer between us on the bench seat.

"What do those people even say to you?" I asked, still reclined, my hand joining my foot out the window to catch the breeze as he pulled out.

"Good job, great game, heard about that scout, Forks sure is proud, don't have _too_ much fun, Edward," he intoned, cocking his head to the side as he continued to tick off his answers. "Ya oughta cut loose sometime, Edward, come by and play catch with little Pete sometime. What're you batting these days, son? Looking good out there, kid, real fine, who's the sex-pot with the big mouth you always got hanging around with you?"

"Shut up," I laughed. "No one says that. Are you attracting a cougar fan base, or what?" I asked. "What's with the moms? And the old guy, for that matter?"

"Shit, I don't know. Like I said, it gives people something to do. Something to talk about. They're all at every game. I've even seen that old guy at practice a couple times," he said. He revved the engine, glancing in the rear view. "You see Em back there yet?" His eyes narrowed as he looked around, suddenly intent. It was an thing we always did, at least since Emmett got his license legally. He might get in trouble for racing around the mostly deserted dust roads, but no one was going to arrest the town golden boy who happened to hang around with the sheriff's daughter.

"He's totally gonna ambush us. He'll be down one of the dead end streets, waiting," I said wisely, keeping my eyes peeled, determined to spot Emmett or Jessica's cars first, so we'd have another win at an impromptu-not-so-impromptu race. "You really wouldn't pick Emmett for the patient type, but he'll be there. Waiting. Watching. _Planning_."

"He is a devious little shit, isn't he?" Edward agreed, cracking a grin and flicking the brim of his hat upward with a muffled thwack from his fingers.

We sped around the corner and I sat up in the seat, waving an arm out the window once I'd spied Emmett in his own truck with Rosalie at his side. He peeled out next to us, followed a little too closely for comfort by Mike, Jasper and Jess, the three of them piled in her green Honda.

Jess revved the engine behind us and Edward spit his gum out the window and laughed, making his own engine growl; I looked up as we sped along and saw a banner across the Bus Boy Diner- _CONGRATULATIONS FORKS TIGERS! GIVE 'EM HELL #4! _He always did, too. Edward had pitched no-hitters to three of their starting batters that afternoon, all senior guys taking hell from a sophomore with an arm like a cannon and the concentrated precision of a pro.

"I don't think this is what your mom meant by being safe," I said, hanging on to the dashboard, bracing myself with my feet. It never once occurred to me to be worried, but then in those days- it wouldn't have.

Edward switched gears, glancing in the rear view mirror at the line of our friends behind us. He was swerving a bit, kicking up dust and making it a bad idea to try and pass us. I laughed in delight when I glanced over my shoulder and saw Emmett shouting what I'm sure were terribly creative curses, complete with his trademark wild gesticulations.

Baseball bats and other sports equipment rattled and banged around in the cab. Edward's mischievous, bright eyes swung to the right, and we both saw it. The huge, muddy field, just off the road. The one that no respectable ball player would ever refer to as an actual _field_.

"No!" I shrieked. I felt a raucous giggle erupt in my chest and it was all I could do to stifle it, bracing myself tighter, my stomach knotting with anticipation and glee. "Don't!"

"Hang on, Swan," he murmured, looking over his shoulder, chuckling at our friends behind us. We spun out off the road and onto the field. It was too wet, heavy mud splattering inside the windows as we twirled and the wheels spun. The beer clanked onto the floor as I careened into him, my mouth open with screaming laughter and he held his arm out, yanking me into a half embrace, holding me closer, one hand still on the wheel. "You're okay," he said, "I gotcha."

Jess spun out and squealed into the field beside us, Jasper's entire upper body hanging out the passenger window. I was amazed his bright red sunglasses stayed on his face, the way he was flopping around, his crazed smile going absolutely manic as he pointed a water gun filled with God knows what at us, those sunglasses covering the dilated pupils from whatever the hell he had ingested after the game. Jasper is hyper-everything: hyper-active, hyper-addictive, hyper-sexual, hyper-alive. In one of his more serious moments, Edward had once said it'll kill him someday, long before the rest of us. That you can't live with that kind of reckless regard for life while insisting that all you were doing was living life to its fullest capacity, as Jasper often said. I can distinctly remember being startled and saddened by Edward's declaration, that he himself might be holding something back from everyone, from me.

By the mutual agreement of a bunch of kids up to no-good, we pulled up in a patch of dry grass and exited our vehicles, us girls and Jasper anxiously swiping bits of mud off our clothes and faces. Emmett walked up and neatly scooped a handful of the stuff in his big palm, giving Jasper a good game as strode over to the "field."

"Shit just went beyond bromance," Rose said, absently braiding the end of her hair, beer can wedged between her thighs. Rose, Jess and I had been in the back of Edward's truck, drinking, watching the boys mess around and talk smack in the field, playing a makeshift game of drunk baseball, no rules or skill appreciated, commented on, or allowed.

Jasper had picked Edward up from behind, shaking him around in some kind of violent bear hug while Edward wielded a mitt threateningly over his head.

"Yo, watch that pitching arm!" I shouted from the truck in a fair imitation of Coach Gibson, who only said those words to Edward anytime he saw him outside of practice, doing things he shouldn't be doing.

"Mind your business," Edward yelled back at me. He dodged to the side when Jasper released him and Emmett came in for a tackle, because that's what you do in drunken field baseball, I guess.

Em and Edward had been playing together since Little League and on through middle and high school. They had somehow grown into the foul-mouthed, hot-tempered catcher and the quiet and quick pitcher, a seemingly little team inside of a bigger one. I once mentioned that they'd have to go to the same college to make sure that they became such a unit that recruiters wouldn't even notice that they weren't two individual people. Their camaraderie was legendary, their silent signals to each other a mystery to everyone but Emmett and Edward. Jasper and Mike didn't have the grades or sobriety to stay on the team, but they were dedicated, professional hecklers at every game. And even though it pained him to admit it, Jasper could out-hit Emmett every time. They weren't allowed to go to the batting cages together without supervision.

"So, I saw a text on his phone from that skank that works at Pretzel Palace," Jess said, narrowing her eyes at Mike, who was the drunkenly swaying short-stop.

"What did it say?" I asked.

"Nothing. It was of her non-existent boobs."

"Gross. Are you kidding?" Rose snorted.

"No, dude. I'm ready to kick his neck in," Jess said, tossing her empty into the truck bed behind us. It clanged against bats or other cans, I didn't know which.

"Did you freak out on him?" I asked, grinning at the slur in my own voice.

"I can't. He'll know I looked through his phone, Bella," Jessica said like it was a duh situation, and it kind of was. This wasn't exactly breaking news out of the Jessica/Mike camp.

"Didn't the last one work at the mall, too?" Rose asked, amused, her nose wrinkling as she blew hair out of her face.

"Sunglass Hut," Jessica confirmed with a nod. She shaded her brow with the blade of her hand and narrowed her eyes at her drunken short stop cheater boyfriend, who was trying to toss his glove in the air and catch it behind his back. He looked over at us and started waving goofily, this ridiculous smile on his face. Jess rolled her eyes, silently pleading with the heavens to save her from her relationship, or maybe just herself.

"You need to dump him. Like, yesterday," I slurred, my eyes unfocused as I tried to stare down the barrel neck of my beer.

"I know. I _know._ But... I dunno. He didn't respond to the boobs text. And besides, I texted Cheney a picture of my boobs like, the week before, so."

"Jess!" Rose shouted at the same time I disgustedly yelled, " _Ben_ Cheney?"

"What?" she asked, incredulous and oblivious.

"Seek professional help," Rosalie said, waving her hand dismissively. She looked out at the boys, smirking as she yelled out, "McCarty, my mom says to get me to bed early!"

"If mom insists!" he shouted back, swinging his pelvis in her direction, the bat behind his back. He swung it neatly and let go, narrowly and obliviously missing beaning Mike in the gut.

Rosalie howled with laughter and stood, holding her arms out as she waited for him to jog over to her. She hopped on his back when he got close enough and he hoisted her up high, his hands groping behind him to squeeze the backs of her thighs. They had started having sex a few months ago and since then, they always took off at least a half hour before Rose's curfew. Their departure heralded the end of the game, and the others made their way over to Edward's truck, chucking baseball paraphernalia and more empties to join the other stuff in the back.

"Wassyer mom doing tonight?" Jasper asked Edward, stumbling up, those stupid sunglasses still on despite the near absolute dark. He slung an arm around each me and Edward, his words clear, as ever, despite his inebriation.

"You smell like salami and hooker sex," I told him, ducking out from under his arm.

"No threeway then?" Jasper asked with mock dejection while Jess tugged him away by the back of his shirt and shoved him in the backseat of her car. He held his arms out in supplication, but Jess was surprisingly strong when it came to wrangling him. She had appointed herself his watchdog back in the seventh grade when he had gotten himself sick off of cigars pilfered from her dad's stash. You'd think they were siblings, the way they were always squabbling with each other.

"If he pukes, I'm not cleaning it out this time," Jess said, slamming the door on Jasper's laughing face while Mike hauled himself into the passenger seat.

Edward and I watched the last of the headlights trail off, the Honda and Emmett's truck skidding out onto the street with a final holler from Em, making Edward shake his head and laugh under his breath. He came to stand between my legs which were dangling from my perch on the back of his truck.

He bowed his head and rested on my chest. I scratched lightly down the back of his sweaty neck while humming Happy Birthday. He pulled on the hem of my shirt and I looked up at the sky, wrapping my legs around him.

"Take me home?" I murmured.

"Yeah," he whispered, stepping back, lifting me from the truck with him.

"But maybe stay for awhile?" I added softly. He stopped short, looking at me from his periphery with narrowed eyes.

"Are you propositioning me?"

"No. Yes. No. I dunno, I just don't want to say goodnight yet. And if it turns into the best birthday of your life, well. Bonus."

"If I sneak in there and your dad shoots me, I totally expect you to push my wheelchair around for life or write the best eulogy _ever_ for me."

"'Here lies Edward. He looked great in tights and his tongue was more talented than his pitching arm. Amen.'"

"Oh man, I'm so happy you see there's more to me than athletic ability," he said, walking around the truck. He heaved the door open and flashed me his easy grin.

"Number one fan, remember?" I said, waggling my eyebrows and pointing to my chest.

Barely even breathing, we crept in the backdoor of my house. The kitchen light was on, one of those constants dependable parents always do, set too dim to really see anything. I'd have to step into my parents' room to let them know I was home, but sneaking Edward in after curfew was old hat. We were careful, but not scared to hell like we were when we first started doing this.

"Don't track in any dirt," I whisper-hissed. He gestured down at his shoes, caked with mud and baseball dust, though I could still see where I had written my initials on the rubber toe shells. He looked up at me with wide, sarcastic eyes. "Okay, whatever," I said, starting the climb up the stairs, Edward right at my heels, taking each step with me, perfectly in synch to sound like only one set of footfalls.

I ushered him into my room before poking my head into my parents' room, suppressing a sigh of relief that they were both already sleeping soundly.

"Shh." My hiss was delicate as I put my finger over my puckered lips. Edward grinned and opened his mouth, like he'd scream.

I shoved him back onto the bed and lifted his arm so I could scurry underneath and smell him. Summertime boy with dust and the humid air, his plain gray pocket Hanes was damp from him and remnants of me and the greasy food we had at the diner earlier, right after the game.

"Everyone says you're gonna go all the way with baseball," I told him.

"Everyone says," Edward repeated, tucking my head under his chin.

"Is that what you want?" I asked.

"I want to go all the way with you," he said, pulling back and crossing his eyes at me.

"You have no chance with me," I retorted, but that was a whisper and a lie. I couldn't take my eyes or my hands off of him.

"You think I'm cute. I know you do. I heard you tell Jess you'd lemme hit it."

"That was like, last year. I've matured since then. Besides, it is an accepted truth that Edward Cullen is hot. It is known, and I'm hardly the only one who has claimed that they'd let you hit it. So. Can we let it go yet?"

"No, tell me again how hot I am," he said, lying back on my pillows.

"Edward, Edward, Edward," I sighed, poking him between the ribs. "That was before I found out you were a complete loser douchebag." I kneeled next to him and put a thigh on either side of his hips.

"You're so sweet to me," he said, tapping at my thighs before looking up and catching the necklace around my neck, giving it a tug. "It'll always be this way, you know." His mouth quirked up in one corner and I felt all warm and goopy inside at the fondness in his voice.

"What?" I demanded. "What will always be this way?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it, wanted to trip all over him and his words, like always.

"Me and you. Whatever happens with baseball-" His smile relaxed slightly, his brow furrowing as he seemed to think about how to finish that sentence. I leaned down and hooked my finger in the necklace he wore, pulling lightly, mimicking his movements, letting the scratchiness of the hemp or whatever it was tickle my skin.

"But you want it? To play ball, right? Edward?" He paused and then blew out a breath.

"Yes. I want it," he finally said.

"Good. Because I really do enjoy the way you fill out those white tights," I giggled, falling forward.

He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and walloped the side of my face with it, making my laughter that much harder to keep quiet.

He rolled us over and pinned my hands above my head and as his hips swayed, I heard his shoes plunk to the floor.

It reminded me of dancing really slow in the Forks High gym, or even more, after the dance, when he twirled and whirled me, our feet bare out in the parking lot of the high school.

"I want it, but I want something more permanent, too," Edward said, looking down at me and right into my eyes. "I could blow my shoulder out tomorrow and it'd all just be over."

"Do you worry about that?" I whispered.

"No. Sometimes. I mean...what can you do?" he asked with a sideways smile.

"Have a Plan B?" I asked, running my fingers down his shoulder blades.

"You're the plan, B," he grinned, then ran a finger between my breasts. "I don't know, I just...I love to play ball, I do. I'll do it my whole life, God willing. It just seems like a cool bonus that someone would like, pay me to do it. If I get the chance-"

"I think it's safe to say you will," I cut in. There had been talk of the draft for awhile now, and everyone from the mayor to the coach to my father said that by next year, he'd be scouted for sure. They were already watching him. _Everyone_ was always watching him.

"But anything could happen. What if I don't? And sometimes it's like...all anyone really even sees about me is baseball. I haven't had a conversation with my dad in the last four years that didn't revolve around baseball."

I thought on that, and it threw me for a loop.

I always figured that Edward and his dad had a great relationship. They were always horsing around, jabbing at each other...but then, I guess, I don't believe I could recall a conversation between them that didn't somehow relate back to the future, the past, the present and baseball.

What was really crazy is that Edward and I very rarely spoke of baseball.

"Baseball is boring as hell," I pronounced.

"So boring," Edward said, snaking down my body. "So boring, you show up and sit right behind the dugout at every game."

"I toldja, I like the way-"

He gasped out loud and looked up at me with a wicked smile.

"They are not-" He poked me on the right side. "-tights." Then the left.

"Panty hose?" I offered, and he dove on top of me, caging me then kissing me into quiet submission. I felt his hard-on against my leg, that part of him that was so...boy.

"Can I keep doing this?" he whispered, rubbing in the same spot.

I nodded my head an emphatic yes. I watched through half-open lids as his eyes rolled back before closing. He seemed to be feeling the same exact type of good that I was.

He met my gaze with an encouraging smile, his cheeks flushed like after a game or a few beers, and for what we were doing, for the act, it was almost shocking how innocent he looked.

It was just so earnest.

"God," he gasped, his open mouth on mine, the two of us rocking with the cantering motion of his hips. "Can I just...?"

"What...what?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, following his mouth as it moved away from mine, my mind in a haze. There was a bunch of shuffling of fabric and I beamed a smile into the near dark; one of _those_ nights, then.

Edward bit down on his lip and rolled on top of me again, his pants down to his thighs, my underwear shifted to the side.

This could happen. In one quick move, this could be happening.

I could be having sex.

Your whole life, up until that point, anyway, you think that it's going to be this thing that looms and looms until you just know it's the right time, and when it is the right time, you will have a plan all ready to go.

You will know it's going to be that day; you'll wake up in the morning and know that _tonight_ is the _night_. You've got supplies carefully hidden away, friends knowing what to say in the event of parental questioning as to your whereabouts. Prophylactics. Pamphlets.

But in reality, it isn't like that. Not for me and Edward, anyway. What happens in reality is you make fun of his baseball tights and he tells you that maybe he's a little scared and the next thing you know, you just really, really want to love. Or at the very least, not stop.

"Should we..." I started, and Edward held himself up, his fists on either side of my head, breathing hard, his eyes screwed shut.

"Do you want to? Or..." His sentence trailed off into heavy breaths.

"If I said no, would you be mad?" I asked.

"No," he said quickly. "Not for longer than a few minutes, anyway." He opened his eyes and gave me his slow grin, and it made me so damned glad knowing that even if we didn't, we could. And would, eventually.

Edward lifted his hips away from me and ruffled the top of my hair before bowing his head to kiss my chin with a sigh.

"I didn't say no," I said, wrapping my legs around his back just as he was going to roll over.

"You're kind of killing me," he groaned, then brushed his open mouth against mine.

"Don't. Don't be killed," I said, smiling, bringing him back down.

"Why not?" he whispered.

"Because. If you're killed we can't...do this," I said, suddenly shy, my eyes darting down to where we were naked.

And then his pants started vibrating.

Literally.

Edward groaned and I laughed quietly while he rolled off of me, awkwardly, his pants still binding his legs together at the ankles.

He reached into the back pocket for his phone, which was flashing MOM.

I giggled while Edward answered with one hand and struggled to get his pants up with the other.

"Hey, Ma... Yeah, yeah. No, go ahead, lock up. I'll be home by twelve...yeah, love you, too," he said quietly, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"Why do you get a midnight curfew?" I demanded once he hung up.

"I'm sure I don't know. It's totally useless. All the bad girls have to be in by eleven, anyway," he said, tugging on my shirt before rolling off the bed.

"I'm a very good girl," I said, draping over the bed, watching him hop on one foot to get his shoe on.

"You lead me into temptation," he said. "But I'm cool with it."

I let my head dangle off the side of the bed and stuck my tongue out, staring at him upside down.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," Edward said, cocking his head sideways to see me straight.

"You got practice?"

"Batting cages 'til noon."

"Maybe if you're lucky, I'll be around when you're done."

"Pfft. You'll be the lucky one. I'll be wearing my tights," Edward said, picking up the snow globe on my desk and tossing it in the air before catching it with one hand.

"Hah! Told you they were tights!" I whisper-shouted.

"I gotta go," Edward said, waving me off. "I've got Em's mitt in my car. I'mma drop it off before I head home."

"Don't catch trouble," I sang, and he reached over and pulled the sheets up over my head.

"You're trouble." He pressed his thumb on my nose. By the time I got untangled from the sheets to retaliate, he was at the window. He gave me that roguish grin of his, the one he always flashed while at my window before he took a leap.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, completely clueless to the fact that letting him leap out would be the regret of my life.

**This story is already complete. You needn't worry that you will be left hanging.**

**I will update this every day until it's done. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Bella. Bella," my mom whispered, hovering over me. Normally, I didn't ever respond to her waking me up at before noon hours, but somewhere in my sleep state, something told me it was important to wake up.

"Hmm. It's Saturday," I mumbled in response.

"Bella. Get up. Put some pants on and come downstairs. Now," she said as I blinked her face into focus.

She had her hair carelessly flung into a sloppy ponytail-bun thing, loose tendrils of sleep-sweaty curls falling down her neck and trailing under the collar of one of dad's old Senor Frog shirts. The only thing keeping me from fixing her with a scowl was the mug of coffee I spied on my nightstand that I knew was for me.

"There'd better be hazelnut creamer in there."

"Hurry, Bella," she said, ignoring my demands before leaving and shutting the door.

I rolled over to check the time, surely it was Ungodly o'clock, but my phone wasn't there; the white USB cord was lying there, limp and useless and phoneless. I had no clue what kind of love-filth Edward had probably texted in the middle of the night, but obviously, my parents had confiscated my phone.

I tossed an arm over my eyes and listened for my too quickly beating heart.

_They know._

Somehow, my parents had discovered that I had been a thrust away from having sex just hours ago, and now I was going to die of humiliation. Bars were going to be put on my window, Edward was never going to pitch again due to his broken arms, and I'd have to endure a conversation about condoms and herpes and teen mothers. My mother would use the word "hymen" and my father would turn that shade of red that's more purple than it is red and there was no way any of us would ever be able to pass the salt or a chicken leg at the table without thinking of hymens, ever again.

I jumped out of bed and flung my hair into a ponytail not unlike my mother's. I supposed walking down there in his clothes would kind of be like pouring salt on the wound. Or lube on almost-intercourse, as the case were. So, I flung off his old JV jersey and threw on an one of dad's old Van Halen t-shirts. Cautiously, I opened my door and hovered at the top of the stairs, thinking of quick lies to spit out when confronted.

"Bella! Now!"

My parents were both standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting on me to walk down.

"What's up?" I asked brightly, trying to put a bounce in my step.

"Bella, was Edward here last night?" my dad asked without preamble, but it wasn't typical Sheriff Charlie Voice; it wasn't the sharp tip of a speech or a disappointed rant. It was way too cut-and-dried and urgent.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit._ "No, Dad. I got in at 10:30, remember?" I said with a careful shrug.

I got to the end of the stairs and tried to wedge between them with a smile, but my dad stepped in front of me.

"You aren't in trouble, sweetheart," he said quietly. "What time did he leave here?"

"Dad. He left at ten thirty," I insisted, shrugging his hand off my shoulder.

"Bella he knows. I told him."

I whipped around to the doorway where Emmett and his dad were standing near the front door.

"What's going on?" I asked cautiously, taking a step back from all of them. Something weird was going on, and my stomach sank down somewhere near my butt.

Mom ushered me to the couch and managed to put a mug of coffee in Mr. McCarty's hand in a matter of seconds.

"He didn't make it home last night," Charlie said. "What time did he leave here?"

"Before twelve," I blurted out. My stomach sank down to my knees. "He had to be home by twelve and meet Emmett first."

"He never showed," Emmett said curtly, pushing his hands up his forehead, flipping his baseball cap up. I noticed he was in his sweat pants and an undershirt. Not even dressed.

"Where is he?" I asked, this weird half-smile of disbelief on my face, the kind that is too stiff to quiver or change. I swear, my body knew before my brain that something was wrong and life had just been forever altered.

Deputy Mark and Deputy Aaron chose that moment to come out of our kitchen, shocking the hell out of me.

"What is going on?" I asked calmly, standing up then sitting back down.

"His car and his phone, wallet, all found out by the field behind his house. He never showed up to meet Emmett," Charlie said before producing his Blackberry and tapping things out with his thumbs. Deputy Mark sat on the recliner opposite us while my eyes swung to Emmett.

"What do you mean, he never showed up? Where's my phone? I'll call him. He'll answer, and-"

"I have his phone down at the station, Bella," Charlie said.

"Why?"

"It's evidence."

Emmett kept rubbing his forehead and Mr. McCarty hadn't even sipped his coffee.

"He left here before twelve?" Charlie asked, and I swear, I never thought we'd be having a conversation like this...so easy and so hard all at the same time.

I saw my mom's mouth form a tight line, but Charlie showed no judgment at all.

"You saw him get in his car?" Charlie asked.

"No...I heard it start, though."

"Any noise? Any other voices, or-"

"Nothing, Daddy," I whispered. I tried to remember, tried to focus on the details of the night, but all I could think of was that smile he had flashed me over his shoulder before climbing out my window like he'd done a thousand hundred times. "Nothing. It was like-"

"Like what?"

"Like it always is when he goes out the window," I whispered and at this, Charlie sighed but nodded, making more notes on his phone.

"And he was supposed to meet Emmett at quarter to twelve at the Gas Up, but never showed..." Charlie said, looking over his notes, talking to himself.

That was over forty-five minutes unaccounted for. As a cop's daughter, I know exactly how grave forty-five unaccounted-for minutes are.

"Where are his parents?" I asked weakly.

"At the station. Bella. I want to know everything and anything you talked about. Anything you did together. All of it."

I sank into the couch and put my head in my hands, thinking. Still, all I could remember was that smile.

I shook my head to dispel the memory and instead tried like hell to remember if he told me he was going somewhere or if his car was having trouble or if-

"Bella?"

"We...made out. Joked around. That's it. Like always."

"Joked about what?"

"Tights."

"What?"

"I...make fun of his baseball uniform," I said with a shrug and it sounded so stupid and so personal that my knees began to shake.

Mom swooped her arm around me and put my head under her chin, but Charlie kept going. His stern cop mode was comforting, keeping me anchored. The quick-fire questions, the no-nonsense, impersonal way of throwing them out made me appreciate how good of a cop he was. I knew the minute he turned back into my father that I would crumble, that I would start thinking.

"What else? Did you have an argument?"

"No, no. We talked about...I don't know. Each other and um," I blew out a shaky breath and wiped my eyes. "Baseball…we…"

"What?" Charlie prodded.

It's sick. It's sick how you say and do things that are meant to be only yours and you never, ever plan on having to say them or share them with your father, of all people. Humiliation warred with the knowledge that I knew they needed to know everything.

And if he showed up in ten minutes with a shit-eating grin, I was going to go ape-shit on him.

"Sex."

"Did you two have sex last night?" he asked, and it was so crushing and embarrassing but at the same time, this was not my father. This was an investigating cop. He showed no sign of being my dad at all, no disappointment or anger or shock or judgment at what I'd said.

And that's when the confusion of it all whooshed away and I knew that something was very, terribly wrong.

"No. His mom called and…we didn't. We never have."

"Was he mad about that?" Charlie asked.

"No! He's not like that, dad. You know that."

"Did he say anyone in town has a problem with him? Has he mentioned if anyone is jealous or upset with him?"

"No, Dad. Everyone loves Edward, you _know_ that."

"What is it?" Charlie asked, picking up on my hesitation.

"Nothing...big. He just talked about how sometimes it's a lot of pressure, the baseball and all..."

"He felt under pressure? Stressed out?"

At this, Aaron, Mark and Charlie exchanged a glance and my mom held me tighter.

"No, no," I said, waving a hand and swallowing a fresh wave of tears, "not like that. He wouldn't _do_ that."

"No," Emmett said, his pacing at a halt. "Nah, he wouldn't do that."

But Charlie kept silently making notes.

"He talked to you about feeling pressure. From who?"

"The town, his father. But dad, he wouldn't just take off or hurt himself. It wasn't like that. It was just a talk."

"Did he say those things?"

"Yes."

"What, exactly, did he say?"

So I told them. All of it.

For so long, it was so quiet.

And then:

"Let's drag the lake. I want all of the trees around the Cullen property double checked for rope, cords-"

"No, Dad," I said, sitting up, pulling on his sleeve. "He was so happy when he left. It's not like that."

"Bella," Charlie said, putting his hand on the top of my head, "we want him back safe. We have to cover all the bases. Let me do my job." And there it was. He was my dad again. I didn't have a stomach anymore.

They were up in a flurry, my mom filling thermoses, the officers convening near the door, the radios affixed to their shoulders buzzing with static and voices talking in code.

Across the room, Emmett looked at me and I looked at Emmett, neither of us saying a damned thing.

For hours I sat there, staring at my phone on my lap, waiting for it to chime, to light up with his name.

My eyes turned grainy, the screen of the phone blurred and I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet.

Mom tried to give me lunch; I declined.

Finally, she sat next to me with a sigh.

"You love him," she said.

"Yeah."

And then, I cried on her neck.

"Did Dad call your phone?" I asked my mom, hours, years, a blink of an eye later as the sky was turning pink.

"I haven't heard anything yet, Bella," my mom said gently, staring at the evening news.

I got up slowly, for the first time all day. I walked up the stairs slowly, heading for my bedroom, where I shut the door and lay face first on my pillow.

It seemed absolutely impossible that not even twenty-four hours ago, he was here. Right here. Laughing with me and making huge decisions with me...and now he was just...gone.

I rolled off the bed and opened my window, tears free-flowing, hot and rapid down my face.

I looked up at the sky, past the inky tree limbs obstructing my view.

He was out there... somewhere, breathing the same exact oxygen. So how could he be gone?

And that is how I lulled myself to sleep for the next three nights.

Jess and Rosalie showed up the next day, their own faces tear-stained, make-up free and confused.

"I mean, he didn't say anything? Like, at all?" Jess asked, wiping her eye on her sleeve.

I turned up my palms and shrugged.

"I don't know anything. I just know he wouldn't disappear. He wouldn't hurt himself. He was happy. He was going to the batting cages..." I trailed off, thinking how stupid that sounded.

"It's okay," Rosalie said, putting her arm around me. "It's okay. And when he comes back, I'm going to kick his ass for making you cry. I swear, I'm going to kill him for doing this."

She meant well, but I pushed off of her.

"He didn't do anything," I said, frustration building. "He didn't do this on purpose."

Rose coiled back and Jess still sniffled into her sleeve.

"You think someone what, hurt him?" Jess asked.

"I don't know," I said, now shaking my head rapidly. "I don't know. I just know he wouldn't leave on purpose. And he wouldn't hurt himself. So if people are saying that...they should just stop. Because he wouldn't."

Jess chewed on her lip then sighed.

"Jasper told the police that Edward said he might quit right after the season's over."

"What?" I said, confused. He hadn't said that to me. Nothing along those lines at all.

"He said he was tired of it. Not the game...just the, you know...golden boy status."

"He wasn't going to quit," I scoffed, feeling irritated and hurt. If he felt that way, he would have told me before anyone else, wouldn't he? "He wanted to play ball. For like, ever."

"I'm just saying what Jasper said. He's got no reason to lie, Bella."

"He must have been frustrated," I said. "He didn't mean it."

I was talking for him, and maybe I shouldn't have been, but I hated the way people were already writing him off. I hated the way they doubted his strength. That they thought that he could...

Jasper shouldn't have said that," I snapped.

"He had to," Jess said, sounding a bit defensive. "They want to hear everything."

"Yeah, but it just makes it sound like something it's not!"

"If you filter stuff to suit yourself, you could leave out a huge clue! Like, even if you don't think it's important, it could be!"

"He wouldn't do that!" I shouted again and the way they looked at me, like I was so naive, like my boyfriend had lied to me and I just sucked it up...just gored me.

"He wouldn't," I repeated, lowering myself to the porch stairs. My girls sat with me, and we didn't say another word, we just linked arms and waited for a boy who didn't show up.

Jasper and Em, did, though, looking as lost as I felt.

Emmett got out of the Jeep, his radio silent for once, his hands jammed in his pockets. His demeanor was so unlike anyway I'd ever seen Emmett.

He just looked at me from under the brim of his cap and shook his head in disbelief before taking a seat right on the sidewalk.

Jasper leaned against the Jeep and spit his chew, staring at the ground.

"I wish he'd get the hell back here already," he said after a few minutes, to no one in particular.

We stayed until well past dark, saying nothing, just keeping silent vigil, waiting for our friend.

Later that night we found out that traces of blood were found inside of his truck. A week or so later, it was confirmed to be Edward's.

I didn't know what to think or do with that; my mother delivered the news hesitantly. She wrung her hands and hugged me and spoke the words very slowly, very softly. But I didn't die. If you had asked me a week before how I would have dealt with that news, I probably would have laughingly said that I would die. I didn't scream, either, and I didn't cry. I just laid down.

Things disappeared after that. I mean, days were nothing. I couldn't remember eating or peeing or sleeping or waking or even breathing. There was nothing.

And then, eight days or so later, there was a pregnant silence with every second that went by.

I jumped when the house phone rang once, some automated message encouraging me to vote against the state Senatorial incumbent in the upcoming primary.

My shoulders were so tense they felt like they'd snap with each movement, and it occurred to me that I'd been waiting for him to call me. Since we'd kissed the first time, I'd never gone so long without hearing his voice.

Esme Cullen came to our house very early the next morning and I could hardly look her in the eye.

It was like looking in a mirror. She looked dazed, lost and a bit wild.

She sat at our kitchen table, untouched coffee courtesy of Mom, Edward's old Yankees sweatshirt wrapped around her shoulders.

"Anything, anything at all you can think of," Esme was saying to me, her eyes wide and searching my face, her cold hands gripping mine.

"I told them all I know," I told her weakly, wishing like hell I could offer something, anything.

"I know, I know...but if you could just...if you could just think once more, Bella. Even something he said months ago..."

"There's nothing," I whispered, my own eyes tearing up.

That was the giant bitch of the entire situation….there was _nothing_.

Esme bit her lip and nodded, blowing out a breath.

"It's just, if he was going to say something, he would've said it to you."

I lifted my knees to my chin and rocked back and forth.

"I want my boy home," Esme said to Renee, and it was terrible how dull she sounded. Edward's joy, his zest for life, was a direct reflection of his mother. "I just want him home."

I buried my face in my knees.

"I have no idea if he's cold or if he's hungry or if he's hurt. What if he's in a ditch somewhere in pain, or..." With that, her breathing became heavy and my mom squatted down next to her chair.

"Carlisle says I can't go there. I can't think of it...but since the day he was born, my sole focus has been his well being. So how do you turn that off?" She gave a tremulous smile, her question earnest, her shoulders shaking.

After a bit, my mom drove Esme home, that sweatshirt still wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

I stayed at the table and stared at the untouched coffee and thought the worst thing. I thought, _I'd really, really love to talk to Edward about this._

The station, the school and a few of Edward's more distant relatives printed up a bunch of fliers with Edward's face on them. It was a picture I'd taken myself, just after a game.

He'd been packing his stuff up in the dugout as I called to him, my phone already aimed in his direction for a picture.

He looked up and smiled brightly, his hat tilted back, his eyes gleaming with victory. I clicked the picture.

"_Congratulations," I told him._

"_Gimme a prize?" he'd said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and then he chased me all the way to the backseat of his car._

We pasted those fliers all over anything that didn't move.

I walked until my legs were numb and my side ached, and then some.

I told myself, _someone will see this face, see this smile and know it. Someone will have seen him and remember. You don't forget that smile. You can never, ever forget that smile._

And then came the days I daydreamed I would see him.

I'd find him and he'd see me, from a window or a car or something...and he'd come running.

And there'd be a stupid reason for all of this and we'd laugh. I'd take him home, and Esme would cry and our boy would be home.

But all I got was lost in downtown Port Angeles.

When Charlie came to pick me up, it started to rain.

Eventually, Seattle picked up on the story, and then it was national news. Cable stations plastered him everywhere. Because he was this terribly good-looking white kid with potential. And people were captivated.

I appreciated it and I hated it. People were concerned or caught up in the sensation of it all, but not one of those strangers knew how vitally important it was for him to be home and safe. They didn't know about the ticklish spot above his elbow, or his pure and illogical hatred of cheddar cheese, or how he could twirl a girl in a meadow and make her feel like the only girl alive.

In the meantime, our little town was taken over by film crews and polished reporters with sympathetic and symmetrical smiles, and they asked about his fucking baseball stats.

No one asked what made him laugh, and that was one I actually knew the answer to. When they all found out that I was "the girlfriend," I learned the meaning of stoicism. I had to walk around with a bland expression on my face because I didn't particularly enjoy hearing about how I was "bucking up" under the pressure and uncertainty of it all on channel 5. Eventually, none of my friends would let me walk around without an escort. I think Emmett got a lot of satisfaction from squiring me around town with a mean tilt to his chin. He palmed a reporter's camera away from his face and tossed it, saying "bill me" over his shoulder without inflection.

The reporters soon learned to leave me alone.

I constantly scrolled through his pictures on my phone. I stared at the ones pasted to my mirror. I cried, and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I listened to old voicemails he'd left. I'd read his past texts like they were bedtime stories…but I stopped when the date of the last text kept growing further and further away.

It seemed impossible that someone so full of life, so huge, so _present_ could be hidden away, gone without a crumb to lead me to him.

**Thank you for reading, the reviews were lovely!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

There was a candlelight vigil at the school which I did _not_ want to attend but did anyway. The thought of being surrounded by Edward's admiring throng now turned deeply saddened and disturbed mourning masses made me want to tear my own face off. I wasn't sure what irritated and infuriated me more- that these kids who barely knew him acted all grief-stricken about his disappearance or that they dared suggest that he was never coming back.

The thing about things like this- shocking and grave and confusing and tragic and mysterious things- is that it makes everyone face their own mortality and it makes everyone want a piece of it. I get it, I do; it was the near-mundanity of it, the "this could happen, even in your town" element that drew everyone together. Yeah, you hear about this kind of crap on the television all the time, see more of it on the internet. And every damned time, you think to yourself, "oh gosh, that's terrible." And you read those articles and you keep the headlines in your peripheral vision, wanting updates on these people you're never likely to meet, just so you can either feel relief when things turn out well or mourn appropriately at the usually inevitable conclusion of bad, terrible endings.

You see the testimonials from neighbors about the "nice, quiet, kept to himself" guy, or "the town sweetheart," or the almost always innocent victim. You see those neighbors, those Mrs. Garcias and Mr. Jordans, and they talk about how he was a great kid or she was a sweet girl and that they're terribly, horribly affected by the loss and you think to yourself, "if you really cared, you wouldn't be blabbing about it on the national fucking news." And you know deep down inside that these people probably aren't the ones who know all about the missing person; they don't know that he loves brussel sprouts no matter how disgusting they really, really are, and they don't know that he has this recurring dream involving vampire rabbits and they don't know that he has this breathy chuckle when he's truly amused by some dumb thing you just did.

So when these well-meaning, probably absolutely the nicest person you'll ever meet in real life people go on national television and profess their grieving devotion in the glowingest of terms, it always pisses me off.

Kind of like this candlelight vigil.

And I was resentful of it.

Girls- from watery-eyed freshmen to busty seniors- bore his jersey number on their cheeks and spoke to local news stations with tears on their lashes, talking about how great he was, what a great person he was, how sweet and lovely. If I were watching this on the TV, I probably would have thought he was the biggest flirt on campus, and that he'd gotten with half of the girls they interviewed. I smiled smugly at my thoughts; Edward was right, I really am mean.

_Is_, I furiously corrected myself, my smile changing to a scowl. Edward _is_ right.

The guys, half of whom Edward called assholes, occasionally to their faces, went on about elementary school antics they'd gotten in together, how he had a hella good curveball, that he was always good for a laugh. It was like everyone was in a contest to get on camera and to be the one person who was closest to him. I imagined Emmett was feeling like me and while my first inclination was to ask him about it, I also didn't want to bring it up with him. Somehow, talking to Emmett about all of this would make it... it would maybe, possibly, probably give it even one half ounce of a thousandth of a shade of the slightest possibility that it all could be valid. Edward's... whatever, I mean. His disappearance.

So, I squelched the thought of asking Emmett about his impressions on all of these jerks coming out of the woodwork to talk about how they used to play catch with Edward back in the summer of 2000 and instead focused on the probability of Emmett punching one of them in the kidney just to make them shut up. It seemed likely.

I laughed as I heard one of the guys actually, for reals say, "we used to play catch in the sixth grade," and instead of the ferocious indignation I'd been expecting, I just felt laughter. Helpless laughter. Sad people. Edward would have mocked all of them if he had been standing there next to me. Not loudly, or anything. It would have been murmured in my ear. He wouldn't have said it for anyone but me to hear. He really was a nice guy like that.

I know it's how people deal or whatever. Logically, I knew that, that everyone has their right to reacting this way. It's perfectly human, and I shouldn't be such an asshole about it.

But still.

I wanted to laugh and spit on all of them. To say to them, "don't you _dare_ reflect on him so you can worry about yourself. He's better than you."

Instead, I stood there in his sweatshirt and even his socks without a word to offer to anyone, keeping the parts of him that only I knew sacred and quiet. Even when people gave furtive glances and not-so-soft whispers in my direction, the braver ones hugging me tightly.

After the vigil, a bunch of people ended up in the empty lot behind Emmett's house, drinking somberly at first then and laughing, all of them telling stories about Edward as though he were dead.

I stared at the fire and that's all Emmett did, too.

"He was such a good bastard, though," Mike sighed at the end of the night. There were only a few stragglers left as he poured the remains of his beer over the smoldering fire, this hiss and crackle matching my increasing ire.

"What did you say?" I asked, well aware I sounded like he had just insulted my mom. I could feel my entire face pinching, could barely make out Newton's suddenly terrified face through my narrowing my eyes.

"He was awesome," Mike shrugged carefully. "It just...sucks."

"Was," I said, my face unrelenting. "You're talking about him like he's dead."

Everyone stared at me, like I was pathetic, like I was some dummy. Like I was the last to get it. They might have not really been thinking that, maybe they were just amazed at my feral behavior. Maybe. Maybe I was tired of people looking at me funny, and maybe I suddenly, seriously needed Mike to bear the brunt of all of my frustration.

"He's not," I said slowly. "You guys just...he'd be so _pissed_ if he knew you all just gave _up _on him."

"Bella," Jess said, grabbing my elbow.

"He's not dead, Jess," I repeated, but she just looked at me, her eyebrows arcing in worry.

"That's it, right?" I chuckled with a total lack of humor. "You all think he's a corpse somewhere, isn't that right?" I said, my voice sounding increasingly agitated, the last words ending in a shout. I was standing, literally opposite of my friends.

Emmett put his hands on his knees, folding over into I knew not what- suppressed laughter at my helpless ire? Pain? Crippling self doubt? _Welcome to the club, buddy_, I thought dryly. Jasper raised his hand like he was going to pat Emmett's back but rethought that urge right quick, instead awkwardly swinging his arm around to scratch at his neck.

"You're wrong," I finally laughed with a cry. "You're all so fucking _wrong_."

"Think, Bella. If you heard this on the news, what would your first reaction be?" Rose pleaded, her eyes wide and round.

I didn't answer her.

The following week, Esme stopped by wielding a box and exhausted eyes.

"There are a few things I thought...well. Here's some of his things," she said softly, putting an old filing box on the coffee table and giving it a fond pat.

"He'll want those back," I said, taking a step back from the box. I couldn't even imagine what was inside, what she thought he had that I might need to keep.

"I know, dear. But he'd want you to hold them."

"Don't give his stuff away," I told her, desperate to not sound so desperate. "Don't act like...like he's not...coming back."

It had now been three months.

Nothing had turned up. No other evidence, no rumors. No trace.

No body.

"Carlisle has me on Xanax. He's insistent on a healthy state of mind. Because I'm told life goes on," Esme said stiffly before turning to face me fully.

"He's coming back," she continued with a decisive nod. "I know that. Of course I know that. I'm his mother, and if he left this world, I would feel it in my bones. So Bella, between me and you...he's coming back. In the meantime, hold on to some of his stuff. It would be an enormous favor to me."

"Esme…"

"Bella, there are things in marriage you wouldn't understand yet. I'm going through these motions to appease my grieving husband. But listen to me." And here, she leaned in with a smile, with Edward's mischievous smile, and like that, my heart broke into a thousand pieces all over again. She even had his confiding tone of voice when she continued, "You and me are on the same side here. He _will_ be back."

I hadn't even realized there were sides to be on. Of course there were sides. Right opinions versus wrong opinions. Hope versus reality. Moving on versus... patience. Funny thing about taking sides- I never chose to be on a side, I was simply there from the beginning. So was Esme. We were the only two. We were on the side of Edward.

I'd always be on his side, always.

With a deep breath, I lifted the lid and peered into the box.

"The winning regional ball," Esme said, reaching in and tossing me a dirty and tattered baseball.

"Maybe Emmett would want this," I said softly.

"Maybe," Esme agreed with a slight smile, then she pulled out his hat.

I held it tightly and counted the minutes until Esme would leave so I could bury my face in it, to smell his fresh-from-victory sweat smell. The one that filled my face when he'd laughingly pick me up and swing me around after having waited like a goober outside the locker room for an hour after every else had gone home.

She had a picture of me and Edward curled up on their couch in their living room, one I'd never seen before. We were at opposite ends of the couch, our legs tangled together in the middle; he'd stolen all of the blanket we were sharing.

There was a sweatshirt and the twine rope necklace, one he only took off for game days.

I slowly walked up the stairs after she left, holding my treasures in my arms, but not so close that I'd crush them. I sat on my bed and lined them all up like they were the Crown Jewels and stared for a long while before picking up the hat.

He had burned his initials just under the fraying brim. I pinched where the initials were and lifted the hat. I fell to my knees.

The pang in my gut thinking about how he _would_ just totally burn his initials into his hat, probably with the old soldering iron his dad had given him for his eleventh birthday, had me gasping. It was such an Edward thing to do that I could feel him in the room, could smell the acrid smoke from burning cotton and cardboard, could see him smirking with satisfaction as he finished the job. In the last three months, I had thought of him often, had remembered and reminisced and ranted and raved, but this was different. It was like he was right there in the room with me this time, and it wasn't even my memory to experience.

It wasn't memory, it wasn't hope; it wasn't even longing. It was cruel is what it was.

When I cried, it was painful in my chest. It was like I'd forgotten how much I missed him. I had been so busy with the business of him missing that I hadn't spent any time missing him.

I hunched over that hat, my forehead to the cold floor, and I cried until the violet violence of the rising sun blurred my vision.

The month after that, I heard my dad talking to Mom from the kitchen as I sat on the couch, twirling the hat around my finger while watching the Discovery Channel.

"We've got to call it," Charlie was saying. "The whole town needs some kind of answer. Carlisle is losing his mind. We've been the walking dead and it's just...it's time."

I shot up from the couch and walked into the kitchen; they both stared at me, their expressions a predictable mixture of shock and guilt.

"Say it," I demanded.

"Bella-"

"You're declaring him dead."

"No," Charlie said softly. "It will be a cold case...but Bella. His family wants a spot for him-"

"A spot?" I wanted to be deliberately obtuse. I wanted him to say it.

"In the cemetery, Bella."

"Esme doesn't," I said, triumphant and proud, like a petulant child. "Esme knows he's alive."

"Bella-"

"What? We're supposed to have a funeral?" I demanded. "They're going to have a funeral for a person who's not even dead?"

"A memorial service," my mother amended, trying to be soothing but it's hard to take comfort from someone who is looking at you like you're the most deluded person on the planet.

"Same difference!"

Charlie crossed the room and took me by the tops of my arms.

"Bella, sometimes this is what people need in order to heal."

"Dad. I'm not a reporter. Don't talk to me like that. Don't give me your buzz words and catch phrases."

"Bella," he sighed, and I felt guilt gnawing at my insides because I knew that he didn't want to do this, and I knew he didn't want to tell me. He didn't want to be the one to tell me. I knew how much my dad loved Edward, too. I knew I wasn't the only one. I knew I was being totally, disgustingly, teenage-ingly unfair. So what.

"Try harder!" I spat out. "This is your town to keep safe! Find him! Isn't this what you're supposed to do?"

Fire came out of my eyes and ripped through my throat and I couldn't stop. I had finally, finally find the perfect place to lay the anger that had been bubbling, brewing and growing. This was nothing compared to the dressing-down I'd given Michael Newton.

"All you know how to do is bust up parties and issue speeding tickets! One real thing happens and you totally blow it!"

Charlie let go of my shoulders and walked out of the kitchen, but not before I saw the look on his face. Stricken, guilt-ridden…that look will stay with me forever.

My mother bent over the kitchen sink, gripping the counter. I saw her take a few heaving breaths before she slowly confront to face my anger.

"This is killing him, you know," she said, not accusingly and not even in anger. Her voice was quiet, reasonable, implacable. "You think he hasn't questioned himself? Do you think he doesn't have the most guilt on his back right now? Do you think he doesn't tear himself to pieces, knowing that he's failing his friend, this whole town, and most of all, his daughter? This is killing him, Isabella."

She walked out to follow my dad and I kicked in the garbage compactor.

Later, there was a scratch at my bedroom door and Charlie walked in, his eyes bloodshot. He came over to sit at the edge of my bed, something he hadn't done since I was eight years old.

"I tried, Bella," he said quietly, after a few minutes filled with false starts and much hand-wringing. "Other than you and his parents, no one wanted me to find that kid more than me. I couldn't have done more even if it was you out there."

"I know, Daddy."

"I just wish..."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"Me too," he said.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

I had to gulp a few times before I could get the words out.

"Do you think he's dead?"

It was quiet for too long before he would even look at me.

"I think," he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I think...that it's okay to move on with life. And it's definitely okay to never give up hope."

For the rest of the summer, I hoped.

I continued going to Esme's house at least once a week. Sometimes she let me sit in Edward's room.

At first, it was like suffocating. I couldn't be in there and hold it together for long. After awhile, I found if I lay very still on his sheets and looked at things just the way he left them, I could either pretend he was there or find comfort in just being near his stuff. Some days it was comforting but most days, it was painful. To feel like I was on the precipice of hearing his voice and never getting there was just twisting the knife that much deeper.

I went through his drawers and laughed at the unopened box of condoms underneath his socks.

I cried when I saw my class picture right next to them.

I was once loved by a boy that the whole world loved.

It was enough and it would never be enough.

Nothing would ever, could ever be like that. Like me and Edward. No matter what happened, there was no going back to that. It was like trying to grab on to a wave in the ocean; it just slipped through my fingers and there was no way to hang on.

**Hi, everyone. Thank you for sticking with me! While I do have daily updates, I'll be taking the weekends off, so I'll see you all on Monday. Thanks for reading, and for reviewing, I am enjoying reading what you all have to say.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, lots of reviews and all the chatter on twitter? You guys are great! So, here's a shorty of an early update as a way to say thanks for your kind words.**

**Chapter four**

We started junior year without him, because, you know. We had to.

Normally on the first day of school, Emmett, Jess, Mike, Rose, Jasper, Edward and I would arrive together in various cars and in various combinations, depending on whose parents were driving and later, who had a car or license.

Normal, normal, normal.

There is no such thing anything.

I noticed Emmett in the lot first, all by himself. He had his hood up even though it was still too warm for hoodies. He caught my eye and I paused as he made his way over.

I didn't know what the hell he'd been up to for weeks, but from the looks of him, it certainly wasn't eating or sobriety. We said nothing to each other, really, because there was nothing to say. There was, however, some kind of strange relief in just standing next to someone who knew there was nothing to say. Who knew how I felt.

Rose and Jess were comparing schedules in the science hall and when I stopped next to them, Em swept right on, ignoring Rose. She rolled her eyes and held out her hand for my schedule.

"What's he pissed about?" I asked Rose. "You guys fighting?"

"We broke up last month," she said, her eyes on my schedule. I gaped at her, not entirely sure if I was the biggest asshole for not knowing or if I was hurt that no one bothered to clue me in.

"Why?" I finally asked.

But wasn't it obvious?

Nothing, no one was the same. We were a group of disjointed, fucked people now. We aren't who we were before June third. We wouldn't kiss the same or laugh the same or touch the same or joke the same or have the same flaws and voices and insides.

There was an announcement in homeroom that staff and faculty were saddened to learn of Edward Cullen and counseling services were always available to those who needed it. I wondered if the people who would take the guidance counselors up on it would have red #4s painted on their faces.

Jess and Rose held my hair back while I threw up in the bathroom, clutching Edward's rope necklace around my neck.

Jasper left an hour before the end of the day and took me with him. We drove to the edge of town where we smoked a bowl in his car and didn't say a damned thing to each other. I pretended not to notice when he cried before he finally spoke.

"Me and Rose fucked around." He gazed out of the windshield, his eyes a glazed and wet mess.

"You're an idiot," I mumbled. I wasn't surprised of pissed off about it. I wasn't anything I would've been before.

"I know it."

"Why'd you do it?" I asked him. Not because I felt duty bound to Emmett or the group dynamic, and not even because I was curious. I think I asked him because it seemed like I was supposed to, like maybe Jasper needed to unburden himself on me, and I was strangely not mad about it.

"You're probably the wrong person to say this to, but…is it so fucking wrong to want to just feel normal again?"

"No. But I don't know what's normal about you messing around with your friend's girl."

"It wasn't…like that? Like, I know this sounds terrible, but the fact that she's Emmett's girl never came into the situation. I wanted to feel good, she wanted to feel good…Em's been treating her like dog shit." He shrugged and dipped his head, absently inspecting the bowl and scraping out a few loose bits of green with his finger. He flicked them away and sat up straight again, squinting off into the distance and looking so lost that I started to feel stirrings of anger again. I pressed my lips together, willing it away. I could do this. I could be here for my friend. I grabbed the baggie he'd tossed on the dash and held it out to him, like a peace offering or something. He smiled thinly at me and stuck his fingers in, pinching off a bit of the weed that remained. He inspected that, too, rolling it between his fingertips as he began to speak again. "If it makes any difference, it was after they broke up. I don't know, I don't know. We're not even into each other. Haven't even spoken to her since. We're all just... different and fucked. It just happened. She told him, and he didn't even hit me. I don't even think he cared. She told him to get a reaction out of him, and he didn't care."

I leaned back and closed my eyes, wishing I could feel sanctimonious and rip him a new one, but it wouldn't come. I couldn't muster up the indignant admonishments that I probably should have unleashed on him.

I hated that I understood Jasper.

And that was the first day of junior year.

Once football season officially started, Forks High played the first game in honor of Edward.

The baseball team forfeited their entire season in memory of Edward Cullen.

Coach didn't want to; he gave a series of pep talks, Emmett said, about how they should play _for_ him. Do it _for_ him. But, like Emmett said, that felt like bullshit. They didn't want to play the game without him, and that was that.

I guess things changed in the same way that nothing changed.

It was a blur of grays and blues, days and nights, everything too dull to be considered surreal amongst the red warnings of "don't be out past dark," "call every hour," and all of that.

To me, there was no fear. I figured that if I was taken in the night like he was, well. Then I'd be wherever he was. Not that I went anywhere. Not that any of us did anything much, really.

I guess we kind of all fell away in our different paths. Thing is, last year, I never would have guessed that Edward was the glue that held our merry little band of trouble together. But then, maybe it wasn't just Edward. Maybe we would have fallen apart if it had been any of us. Or maybe not falling apart, but definitely falling differently.

I went to Homecoming Junior year with the girls. I cried in the bathroom and went home early. By the time Junior Prom rolled around, I danced. I noticed Jasper wasn't there; he'd been hanging around with a bunch of kids from Port Angeles. Rumor had it some girl from Seattle caught his eye. Em was there but he hung out at the spiked punch fountain with the rest of the former baseball team. Some things don't change, however: Jessica and Mike fought and broke up then got back together in the parking lot.

And then it was the following spring.

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing, it means a lot! Seeya Monday...**


	5. Chapter 5

**I changed the genre- sorry! I talked it over with some of you and I've been convinced to add "angst" to the categorization. It _does_ get a little worse as we lead up to the dark subject matter, and I do apologize for the sudden change. Totally understandable if you don't want to continue reading.**

**Chapter five**

"Bella, get the door!" my dad hollered from the basement. He was a second too late because I was already on my way, the incessant knocking going on non-stop for a full minute.

I swung the door open and a guy was standing there, his fist still pounding at a now non-existent door.

"Uh. You're not a middle-aged, balding man," he said, taking a step back.

"Uhh, nope."

He grinned, a pirate-y kind of smile, and I shrugged uncomfortably in response.

"Can I help you with something?" I finally asked when he remained silent. He backed up to look at the address on a moldering plank of wood nailed to the side of the house.

"Yeah, I'm here for your trim," he said and then put a hand up, his cheeks turning pink as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh shit. Oh God. I did not…well. Now that I think about it, I kind of do mean it." Again, he flashed his easy grin.

"Who _are_ you?" I asked, amused despite my discomfort.

"Jake," he said, thrusting a hand out at me. "Is Charlie Swan here?"

"Daaaaad," I hollered, not taking my eyes from this kid. "A boy is here to see about my trim!"

His eyes widened in horror and I grinned, glad to turn the tables and make the kid uncomfortable. These days, taking small pleasures where I can find them seemed awfully important, and it was a bonus that I got to inflict humiliation and fear on a perfect stranger. Especially one who smiled too easily, no doubt because he was such a good-looking guy. He seemed like the type to charm birds out of the sky and help old ladies with their groceries; he was tall and had the most beautiful, tawny skin I'd ever seen. He looked like he spent a lot of time squinting at things, and he was squinting at me now in either consternation or utter horror- something people around me had been doing for over a year now.

"Excuse my daughter, she's a lunatic," my dad said helpfully, stepping in front of me. He was wiping his hands on a filthy towel and looking at me with exasperation. Better than the consternation and utter horror, I thought glumly.

Apparently, Jake from the next town over was looking for work to save up for college, and my father was too old to paint the trim this spring. I wasn't surprised. We all felt a helluva lot older that year. According to my father, not only were he and Jake's dad old drinking buddies, but Jake and I had met a few times.

I raised a brow toward Jake at that and he just shrugged pleasantly. I figured I would have remembered someone that tall and said as much, but he just responded with a quip about growth spurts and string beans and that I never once graced him with anything but disdain in all of our previous meetings. He said it all charmingly, though, like nothing pleased him more than my indifference, and I felt myself smile unwillingly at how easy it was to let someone poke and tease me again.

Then I spent the rest of the night staring at my ceiling, telling myself I had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn't like I was _doing_ anything or anything; I'd simply had a new interaction. With a guy. That I'd apparently known for years. Surely, that was okay. Right?

With spring and Jake came warm weather, and with the sun came the ghosts. We were coming up on a year and it haunted me. _He_ haunted me. My open window was wide-mouthed, taunting and calling out whenever a breeze would slip and slither in, saying, "Remember? Remember when he leapt and leapt forever?"

People stopped looking at me with pity and started looking at me with faint disgust, their eyes urging me to get over it already. Get over it.

Except Jacob, who was kind of funny and often stoned. He rode a skateboard to our house on the weekends to paint the trim.

Jake didn't pity me or judge me. He didn't throw me pensive looks when a news story with an Amber Alert buzzed through town. He wasn't careful about not hurting my feelings and he flirted with me openly and loudly, and God. I'd missed that kind of normalcy. I'd spent so much time missing Edward that it hadn't occurred to me to miss much of anything else.

"Watch this," Jake said, standing on my porch early on a Saturday morning. He had just given up on the ancient weed whacker my dad insisted still worked if you finessed it enough.

In a flash, Jake doubled head over heels and started walking on his hands, his long legs swaying in the air, coming at me.

I gave a slow clap and whistled like a pro before he flipped back up, grinning like he'd just walked on the moon.

"Impressive," I said with a smile, walking past him to open the mailbox.

"Impressive enough?" he asked nonchalantly, hopping from foot to foot.

"For what?"

"You," he said. "If I asked you to come out with me now that you've seen my raw talent, would you say yes?"

I froze with my hand clasping the Pennysaver and felt my fingertips and lips go cold.

Not once had I given any thought to…next. Or new. Or someone else. I hadn't exactly been planning on spinsterhood, either; I simply hadn't thought of what came next at all.

"I didn't know you were, like, interested," I said casually, my mind scrambling for a rejection that didn't sound mean or psychotic or like a rejection at all and somewhere, deep down, there was the niggling feeling that I was going to say no. I wasn't certain there _was_ a reason to say no. And with that thought came the guilt, sawing away at my insides.

"Huh. Really?" His chin ticked to the side and he looked about as confused as I felt. "You thought I just had a fetish for doing home maintenance at below union rates?"

"I thought you were saving money for college." He laughed, scratching his head while looking up at the sky before he tilted his head down to look at me thoughtfully.

"No offense, Bella, but your dad pays me like, ten bucks a day. I could go flip burgers for more but," he shrugged easily, "the view wouldn't be as nice."

"I don't really know what to say," I admitted, and he kind of jerked back and laughed a little.

"If it makes you pause, you ought to know that I can do a back-flip, too."

"It's not that," I laughed. "It's just... I'm surprised, is all."

"If you don't want to, just say no," he said. "I got my other eye on the redhead that works at the Dairy Queen. But she's not as pretty," he said with a wink.

"Jake, you do not," I said, laughing a little easier.

"Okay, I don't. But I _am_ a great catch. Some girl would love to have me…walk on my hands for her," he said, trailing off, but when he looked back up at me, we both shook our heads and laughed. "Fine. No girl wants that. So, are you breaking me or making me here, Beautiful?"

It was like standing on the edge of the sharpest, most violent knife. Like I was seeing _his_ face right before he slipped out of my window, and I had the looming sense that saying yes to Jake would mean saying good-bye to Edward, and these musings would have to be reflected on deeper and later, not here, and not when one of the most comforting and comfortable guys I'd ever met was standing in front of me. A tiny part of me felt the first, tiny thread of resentment take root in my gut. I wished it could be simpler. I wished I could say yes or no like any other girl, and it was kind of really fucking irritating that I couldn't.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked instead of giving him an answer.

"Date, drink, at least I'm getting something," he said easily and followed me into the house.

I expected to be awkwardly dodging the date issue. I expected to politely host him for a while until it was time for him to leave and then I would be able to lie down and hash this out with my mind and my heart.

What I did not expect was to be lying with my head hanging over the edge of my bed, my hair dangling to the floor while Jake made fun of the contents of my closet and then pretended to read my palm.

"This is terrible," he said, tracing along my palm and shaking his head. "Oh man. This is the _worst_."

"What?" I asked, blood rushing to my face. He sat, his legs criss-crossing in front of me on the floor.

"You…are going to end up pedaling meth in Peoria," he said solemnly, pursing his lips and shaking his head with mock sorrow. "I'm sorry. Your fate is sealed."

"You got all that from that one line?" I asked dryly.

"Yes. It's that, or you're going to raise sheepdogs and nine children in Maine. It could go either way."

"Does it say what tips the scale in either direction?"

"Lemme see." He gently traced more designs into my palm before sitting up with a decisive nod. "A midnight showing of _Raging Bull_."

"What are you gonna do?" I asked him after I'd laughed a good, long while. I realized with some surprise that I hadn't laughed like that since...

Jake grinned, his flashing smile keeping my smile fixed in place. His eyes dropped to his own hand splayed in front of his face. He frowned for a second before nodding once again.

"I'm going to be declared king of the Pacific Northwest."

I slapped his hand away and then he told me about how really, he was probably going to end up in civil engineering.

It was the easiest time I'd had since. Since.

The short of it is all is that there was no association, no memory, _nothing_ _Edward_ attached to Jacob at all. That's how he became the easiest person for me to spend time with.

Edward would've called Jacob a douchebag and for some fucked reason, I found supreme satisfaction in that, even though I kept it to myself.

One day, I found myself telling Jessica and Rosalie about him.

"But he's crazy into horror movies, only the really terrible ones no one has ever heard of? So, we ended up streaming this shitshow about girls at a summer-camp…" I trailed off when I noticed they were motionless, staring at me with these nervous smiles.

I looked away and took a deep breath. I knew why they were silent and staring and they knew why, too. We didn't say it out loud, but Jessica cried and hugged me.

The thing about life is, it happens organically. Sure, some things are these big choices and decisions and I thought that saying hello to Jake was one of them. But really, there was no choice to make, just a life that insisted on progressing.

**Wow, the response to this is seriously amazing! Thank you so, so much for your kind words of encouragement and the lovely reviews, and thank you for spreading the word around. It's humbling and flattering and amazing.**

**ETA: to the flouncer and to those about to flounce: I ask that you check the pairing I listed for this story before you dump me. With _Twilight_ comes Jacob sometimes. Bear with me!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Someone whose opinion I respect and adore talked me into updating again. Just... bear with me for the next couple of updates, okay? All darkness will come into light this week, if not toward the light. I promise.**

**Chapter six**

"I'm having an end-of-the-year thing at my house," Emmett said, standing pensively by my locker. We'd never had a fall-out or anything, but there was a definite drift. It was weird how this was so normal yet abnormal at the same time. I looked up at him and was surprised to see that he looked impossibly taller, his hair a little longer but there he was, my friend, the same but not the same.

"Yeah?" I asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder, reminding myself that this shouldn't be weird and I shouldn't be nervous. Hell, sophomore year, I would've been part of the planning for his end-of-the-year thing, trying to convince him to make everyone dress like pirates or yelling that I was not going to make eight different flavors of Jell-o shots.

"Yeah. I think you should come," he said, his eyes darting to the collage of pictures, mostly of Edward, still pasted in my locker. There was a copy of our group pic from the Spring semi-formal and one of just the guys from the same dance, all of them doing gorilla impressions. There was one super embarrassing one from the eighth grade trip to Washington DC of Edward with his arm slung around my neck, grinning his "oh, you want to take a picture with me? Yeah, okay" smile and I was flushed because Rosalie had basically forced me into asking him to take a picture with me on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial with the Reflecting Pool and Washington Monument in the background. I hated the fucking picture, but he had crowed the first time he saw it taped to my mirror, stabbing it with his finger and insisting that that moment was when he _knew_ I had the hots for him, so it had better damned well stay tacked up in my locker forever. There was also one of just Emmett and Edward sitting in the back of Edward's pick-up. "I asked Jess and Rose, too. Even Jasper."

"You did?" I asked, taken aback.

"I just..." He blew out a hefty breath and put his hand on top of his head. "I'm trying to not be angry anymore. You know? It's the end of junior year, and we should see it out together."

"I'd like that," I smiled, feeling one of the many weights on my shoulders that I hadn't even realized were there ease up a bit. I turned to pretend to rummage through my locker so I wouldn't have to meet his eyes when I said what I said next. "Do you mind if I bring someone?"

"Yeah, that's cool. Jasper's bringing that Alice girl from Seattle," Emmett said, fiddling with his phone. "Hey, Bella?"

He tugged the back of my shirt so I turned around. My face was bright red. I couldn't meet his eye.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I heard you were hanging out with some kid from the rez. It's cool. It's just..."

"What?" I prodded again. It came out defensive and like the snap of a rubber band. It was as though I'd just been waiting for someone to call me out, to tell me that I'm an asshole for spending time with Jake or at the very least, I wanted someone to say, "but what about Edward?" because that way, maybe I wouldn't feel like he was slipping out of my life. Because that was the way I was feeling. It was a massive ball of guilt-inflected relief in some ways, but more than relief, it was slow heartbreak. Maybe I wanted someone to tell me to hold on forever.

"It's weird," Emmett said carefully. He stared off at some point that wasn't here before shaking his head and coming back. The corner of his mouth hitched up into that charmer smile he's got, or at least the one he used to throw around all the time. That could have made me wince with missing other boys' smiles, but this time, it just made me miss my friend. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed Emmett, too, and the joke of it all is that he had been there the entire time. "Part of me wants to deck the guy hanging out with my buddy's girl, you know?"

"I didn't pick this, Emmett," I said softly. "If I had a choice-"

"I know, I know," he said quickly, waving his hands in soft defense. "You shouldn't feel, uh. Bad. It's just-" He shrugged then smiled at me. "My boy, you know?"

"My boy, too," I said, bumping his shoulder with mine.

"I know it," Emmett sighed. "School sucks without him." It kind of occurred to me that Emmett was probably really fucked up about this. I'd spent over a year stuck on me and Edward, but the fact was that Edward did kind of belong to everybody. And especially Emmett. Hell, he was Emmett's before he was mine.

"Everything sucks without him," I laughed.

"Yeah," Emmett breathed, staring back down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the cluster of kids racing to class before the bell rang, not something any of us had ever been overly concerned with. "Sometimes I think I see him, you know?" He laughed uneasily. "Is that screwed up?"

"No."

"I mean, I'll be driving to the Albertson's out in PA or out for a run or even watching TV and someone will walk by and I'll have to look twice. It's like...it's like...my mind can't stop looking for him. Even when I'm not thinking about it."

"I do that," I said, nodding thoughtfully. "All the time. Once, I was walking out of Blaine's Deli and this guy tucked into the corner table looked so much like him that I went back inside just to make sure."

"It's just so...I mean. Where the hell did he even go?" he said with exasperation, both his hands in the air. "The planet is huge, but he's gotta be somewhere, right? He has to be somewhere on some square inch of this earth."

We decided to skip the rest of the school day. Went to the beach though it was a bit cold, and just talked. About Edward. About Jake. All of it.

**xxxxx**

"Sucks to be him," Jake said as he plunked a Cherry Coke and a package of Junior Mints on the counter of a Pik-Way located half way between his house and mine. He barely paid any attention to the good-looking kid on the flyer pasted behind the counter, the one he was referring to. "Shit's crazy. Never even found him. I guess it's ironic that it seems like this stuff always happens in these small towns. Or maybe you just hear of them only _when_ it happens in a small town."

"I knew him," I said quietly as Jake took his change from the cashier.

"Who'd you know?" Jake asked, holding the door open with his hip.

"Him. Sucks to be him, him?" I stammered out, following Jake out of the store.

"Hey, you okay?" Jake asked.

"I love him," I blurted out, because it was the only thing that I could manage, and I wanted Jake to stop talking about it, about him, like he was a small town myth from long ago.

"Who?"

"Edward. The missing kid? He was my... mine. So."

Jake blinked and looked away, then looked back at me before leaning on his car. I couldn't read the expression on his face, couldn't tell whether it was assessing or annoyed or nothing or what.

"Shit. I didn't know."

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, you didn't know."

"No, I mean I'm sorry he's gone. That that happened to you."

I sipped my slushee and blinked back tears before smiling at Jake.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, too." I gave him some sort of watery, lame smile, his return smile much more sincere than mine.

A few nights later, he kissed me.

I let him, I saw it through.

And then I felt sick all night long, like a traitor, like a cheater, because in the back of my mind, this entire time, I'd had this notion that if Edward was the last person to have his lips on mine, it meant some kind of weird thing for eternity.

Like, the only lips to have touched mine were his, and that had to mean something.

Jake kissing me was like wiping Edward's kiss away.

I wanted to always say that his kiss was the only one I'd known and I had this terrible fear that Edward would soon turn into just one of the boys I'd kissed long ago.

He'd meant so much more than that.

He wasn't some boy, long ago.

He was a lifetime.

"Jake- I'm not..."

I'm not what?

Not ready?

Will I ever be ready?

Will I ever get over him?

Will there ever be a day or a minute or a moment when I can get out from under a boy that's not even here?

It made me so fucking _angry_.

It was a very real possibility that my forever would be shadowed by a boy who might be a ghost.

Would I forever be under the lock and key of a boy who had fallen off the face of the earth?

The course of my life was totally altered, and it wasn't fucking fair.

It wasn't my choice. I did not choose this. I did not make a foolish decision, and this should not be my consequence.

Yet...there it was, anyway.

"What? You're not what?" Jake asked, stepping back, trying to meet my eye.

I grabbed his shirt and pressed my lips back against his.

I know that I did it out of anger and a touch of fear. I did it because Edward disappeared, and I was scared that- no. I _knew_ that I was losing myself, too, and anything the future might hold.

I wanted to hang onto him. I wanted to preserve myself, to stop time, to go back to not do anything without my friend, my partner in crime, the love of my life.

But that couldn't be. It laughingly, hysterically, devastatingly _could not be_.

That life was not mine to have, not anymore.

And so, you forge ahead.

I didn't know how to let go or to hang on, so I just moved forward.

With Jacob in front of me, I said goodbye to my dream love boy and chose reality.

**Reminder: this _is_ an Edward & Bella story. Just... not like one you've read before. Probably. **

**Thanks for all the comments and even the criticisms! It's still blowing my mind that "everyone" is talking about this right now, as some of you keep telling me. The story isn't even a week old yet!**

**Oh, and many of you have asked how many chapters, and the honest answer is... I don't know, not yet. See, this entire thing is written in a large blob and I'm just working day by day, separating out the sectios into chapters as I scan for bad grammar and repetitive sentences/thoughts. Today, I work on chapter twelve. Maybe thirteen, I'm not sure yet. I'm guessing this will end up somewhere around the 25 to 30 chapter-ish range? Maybe? Probably? As soon as I've finished going through the entire document, I will let you guys know. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven**

"That's not a full house, there, friend," Jasper drawled, pointing to my cards.

"It is! It's... all the same color," I said, moving to take the pot on the table.

Emmett smacked my hands away and Jake squeezed my waist as I sat on his lap.

"I'll google it," Jess said, whipping out her phone.

"Tell 'em Jake," I said, leaning back into Jacob.

"B. It's just...I mean, it's pretty and all. But it's not a full house."

I looked down at the cards.

"My grandma told me a full house was all red cards," I said, and the entire table burst into laughter.

"Shut up!" I laughed, throwing a poker chip at Jasper, who flicked one back with a snap of his fingers. Emmett scooped up his beer out of the line of fire, just as another chip went whizzing by his head.

"Yo, watch it, ass wipe," Emmett grinned, picking up the chip and trying to snap it back, only it fell lamely to the floor.

"Nah, man. You can't treat her like a quarter. These are _clays_, Emmett," Jasper said like that was supposed to mean something. He proceeded to educate Emmett on properly adjusting your finger position to accommodate for the increased girth of the poker chip, and Newton sat there making obvious innuendo after every single thing they said. After a few snickers over "keep your hand firm" and "Emmett, I said to be gentle," the boys finally started snapping chips at Mike.

"Have you ever seen any more obvious homoerotic subtext in your life?" Rosalie murmured. Me and Jess nodded, our lips in firm lines, trying to hold back the laughter bubbling underneath. It all felt _good_.

After dodging a few errant chips, Jake took one final, deep inhale on his Camel and tossed it in the ashtray before tossing me on his shoulder, protecting me from the flying chips.

"Try it now, suckers!" I called from behind Jake.

Rose came from behind and since I was upside-down, my hair hanging in my face, I had no warning that I was about to get doused with her fruity cocktail. I could smell the coconutty-pineapple stickiness dripping down my skull and I shrieked in maddened delight. Then it was a free-for-all that ended with all of us in a drunk, laughing mess.

I leaned back and smiled around the table, taking a mental snap, keeping this moment safe, as I'd learned to do.

It was funny how somehow, we'd all gravitated back together like we always did. Like it was no big deal, like we hadn't been avoiding doing this for over a year now. Like everything was normal and we weren't all cracked, empty vessels scrambling like hell to replace the emptiness by plying ourselves with alcohol and by forging forced, new memories.

Because Edward was not there.

But Jacob was, and so was his laughter.

Emmett and Rosalie were courteous to each other in the beginning of the evening, but after a few drinks in, they were downright flirtatious. This, too, felt normal and forced into normal. Jasper drifted around but always came back, glancing down at his phone often, texting a girl named Alice with this stupid smile on his face.

Some things are just meant to be, so much so that no matter what, the earth pulls them together like magnets, like a dog that always finds its way home. Some things cannot be stopped from being together, and you just have to believe that. You have got to believe the right thing will happen, no matter how long it takes to heal and get right.

**xxxxx**

"The diner wants to do a fundraiser in his name," Esme said without inflection. We were sitting on her sofa, she staring straight ahead as I goggled at her. "I don't care. It's up to you."

"A fundraiser," I repeated slowly.

"For missing and exploited kids," she said quietly, finally breaking the stoic mien she had been affecting since I had knocked on her door.

"Oh," I said, blowing out a breath. "They're trying to be nice, I suppose."

"I know," Esme said, a light smile on her lips, her eyes far away.

She had been on a steady diet of tranquilizers for the past year. Esme used to be the woman organizing all of the fundraisers, always so crisp and efficient, even vivacious. Being chipper and enthusiastic was what she did best, so it only seemed natural that she would spearhead all sorts of philanthropic activities.

She hadn't been doing any of it for over a year now. It just goes to show you, even the best of us can be brought down low, torn apart. Maybe with no hope of mending.

"I can't get over it, Bella," she said, turning to me, a wild look in her tearing eyes. "I just can't. I can't pour myself into work or helping others. I joined this group of mothers with missing kids and they all pour themselves into helping others. They say they do it so their child's tragedy isn't in vain, but maybe I'm just too selfish. I can't do it. I just keep thinking that he's out there...and he needs me."

I expelled a shaky breath and sat next to her on the sofa. I awkwardly patted her hand because I never did figure out how to comfort others. I always figured that simply being there was enough, but in this case... so many of her memories of Edward were entangled with me. It suddenly occurred to me that it must kill Esme to see me, to talk to me. Or maybe she needed to see me so that she wouldn't forget? I wasn't sure and I was scared that I wasn't doing the right thing and I was desperate to run off but I was even more desperate to stay because... she was the only one who believed besides me, and I needed that. I always needed that. Maybe that's why Esme needed me, too.

"It evolved for those other people. For everyone else. The whole town just...got by. I can't, Bella. I carried him in me and I created him and I just cannot let him go. I wish I could."

"Esme...I...this thing, with Jacob-"

"No. No," Esme said, her soft, understanding smile the first I had seen on her in more than a year. "I wouldn't, even Edward wouldn't...begrudge you that. Don't do that. Don't not live."

"I'd rather he come home," I whispered.

"Me, too."

**xxxxx**

Very, very early, just before dawn on Edward's eighteenth birthday, Emmett and I met in the meadow.

It's not that we didn't intend to tell anyone else. We simply didn't.

"Eighteen," Emmett breathed out. The streaks of blue and aqua limning the horizon were starting to give way to a soft pink and orange haze. We were both facing it, my eyes closing as I breathed in the crisp, dewy air around us. I could smell the wet grass, the rich and moist soil. There were few sounds but the air seemed poised for something, ready to make a jump on the day, maybe, expectant and full of the promise of new things, a new season.

"Happy birthday," I whispered.

"Doesn't seem right that like...we're going to graduate. We're going to grow up and go to college and get jobs and wives and shit and he's... He'll always be just...stuck."

"Forever sixteen," I said, then I was struck with the thought of me, at thirty, still in love with a sixteen-year-old boy.

"He woulda been a helluva ball player," Emmett said and with that, he drew his arm back and threw Edward's winning Regionals ball so high and so far out in to the forest, I wondered if it could've reached wherever it was Edward went.

**xxxxx**

I spent the rest of the day with Jake.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?" I asked, sitting up on his bed, adjusting my bra strap.

We were in Jake's bed.

We never, ever went to mine.

It was this thing. This ridiculous, last thing I held onto. Because someday, maybe not in this world, but some day...I wanted to be able to tell Edward that I had saved something. That there was a sacred thing.

I never let another boy in my purple bed or through that open window.

"You know it's okay to feel different about me, right?" Jake finally said, his cheeks turning pink.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious, that maybe I'd done something wrong.

"I know what today is, Bella," he offered, quiet and still, as Jake often is when discussing this particular subject. "You're sad, and it's okay. I don't expect you to like... miss him less because I'm here. I'm not him, and you weren't done with him by choice. I'm not trying to replace anyone, you know?"

"I know," I said softly, looking down at my hands, but it was a lie. I hadn't known that. And it felt so good to hear him say it.

"Thank you, Jacob," I told him simply, my head falling onto his shoulder.

"Nah," he said with a seemingly dismissive wave of his hand. "Just consider it an early graduation gift." He grinned his easy grin and thrust an envelope in front of my face.

"Jake, we don't graduate for months," I laughed. "What is it?"

"Open it and see," Jake said, rattling the envelope and rolling his eyes.

"What did you do?" I asked, eyes narrowed, snatching the envelope from him.

He smiled with anticipation as I opened the envelope and peered inside.

"A plane ticket." I said, my voice very even. "You trying to get rid of me?"

"Come to Phoenix with me. Over spring break."

"Jake."

"Don't say no yet."

"There are like a zillion reasons...and my parents are at least half of them," I said, biting my lip.

"It's cool...Billy talked to Charlie before I bought the ticket."

"What?" I gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Totally serious," Jake said, plucking the envelope from me and kissing my lips.

"I mean..."

"My sisters are there. I wanted to see them over the break. I want you to meet some of my old friends and just...let's hang out in Arizona?"

"Okay," I shrugged, laughter bubbling up.

"Yeah?" Jake asked, hopeful and lifting a corner of his mouth.

"Yeah."

He whooped and jumped off the bed, reaching down to put his arms around me and lift me inches in the air.

"You'll love it. I know it. We'll get you a tan and everything."

"I burn," I told him.

"Then I'll SPF the shit out of you."

**xxxxx**

"God, you're _so_ lucky. I'm going to hang in Port Angeles over spring break," Jess said with obvious disgust and envy, plopping on my bed.

"I'll be here in Forks," Rosalie said. "Em and I talked about going to Seattle for a few days or whatever, but he's got baseball training camp or some shit, so we're tied here."

I didn't let the sting of that take the smile from my face, even though I felt it. In an alternate universe, I'd be tied here because of baseball camp, too.

"Are you staying with his sisters?" Jess asked.

"No, in a hotel," I said, and at this, all ears perked ;up.

I was our only remaining virgin.

It wasn't even by choice, really. It's just...plans and expectations having been derailed and all.

"Sharing a room?" Jess sang.

"Yeeeessss," I mocked back, shoving a pillow at her.

"Well. Are you gonna do him or what?" Rose asked.

"Yeah. You like, totally should. Homeboy's pretty hot, you know. Lots of girls are always eyeing him when we're all out, yours truly included," Jess said seriously.

"Jess!"

"Look, it's good for Michael to know he's not the only meat up for offering on the chopping block. Not that I'd ever poach or anything," she added quickly.

"I know," I said fondly, patting her hand.

"Quit changing the subject, Jessica," Rosalie said primly. "Our girl here needs to think about her options and first discuss them with us. So? Bella? Are we taking the F train and getting off at D street, or what?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I guess I should. I don't know. I don't want to like...make some big, elaborate plan."

"Why not?" Jess asked.

"Because. Because shouldn't it just...happen?"

My mind flashed to the past, to unexpected touching and promises, eager hands and hesitant words. Fluttering in my stomach like lightness, like air, like remembering something that you never, ever want to share with another person and then plummeting when you realize the one person you could share it with just... wasn't.

"I don't know," Jess shrugged. "Me and Mike did it after an argument involving a Taco Bell value meal, Facebook and that girl who's the denim expert at the Gap," Jess said, like we could have ever forgotten that.

"Me and Emmett did it after homecoming like the most cliched teenagers ever."

"It's just weird," I said with a shrug. They looked at me and waited. We hadn't discussed Edward in a long time at that point.

"Why?" Rose asked quietly.

"Because...I mean. I just always assumed it'd be with Edward. It's like...just a matter of rearranging it in my mind, I guess."

Rosalie laid back on the bed against Jess's legs and hummed.

"For what it's worth, Bella you're really doing well. I think we all are."

"I just wish I knew that he was dead," I blurted out, freezing the room. "Then maybe I could go to sleep and not be worried about him. That's the _worst_," I said, now on a roll, but I wasn't crying. "It's like, if he's out there and in trouble or in pain or having the time of his life- I can't not worry about him. It's like, this constant thing on my mind no matter what. If he was dead, I could just cry and get the hell over it, but I can't because there's not even a body, you know?"

It was the most removed from Edward Cullen I'd felt since the first day I laid eyes on him. _There's not even a body._

Later that afternoon we went to the cemetery. There was no headstone for Edward. Esme and Carlisle opted instead to put his name on a plaque on a bench; I assumed it was a compromise between hanging on and letting go.

The girls roamed around while I sat on that bench and took a few heavy breaths, re-reading his name over and over.

Esme insisted there be no dates on the plaque- not a birth, not a death- just a memory. She was never willing to stunt his life in that way.

"You," I breathed out. "Really fucked me up."

"If you were here, I wouldn't think twice about taking trips or just kissing in a backseat, but nothing comes easy anymore. Edward, it's like I'm taking you into account in every simple move I make but at the same time, I'm starting to feel like a fool for it. You're turning into a childhood memory and I hate that.

"Don't get me wrong, I know I was lucky. I know how lucky I was to have been loved by you. To be next to you and touch you and listen to you sing to the radio and be in your life. I know that. But wow. As great as it was to have you, the harder it has been being without you. There's this part of me that wishes that you never even looked in my direction. Because then I wouldn't know what...being without you is like.

"That sounds selfish, but I wouldn't be this fucked up without you if I never had you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that. Because the truth is, I hope wherever you are that maybe, you feel the same way about me still.

"Forks is gonna play this season without you, and I told Em I'd go watch but I don't know. You know I hated baseball anyway and...and...no one else looks good in tights."

I wiped my cheeks and took a deep breath, grabbing deep down for grace, to say everything I needed to say.

"You just left so quickly, and I'm confused how you could've been my whole world before we barely even started," I whispered, shrugging my shoulders. "How you still dictate my life without even being here is just kind of insane...and Edward. You changed me and I don't know why. You were here, you were amazing and then just...nothing. So what was the point? Just to set me on this course and then fuck me up? And you were supposed to be so fucking much. You were gonna set the whole world on fire and then bam. Nothing. It's a fucking waste."

I rested my finger over his shiny name, tracing it with feather-like brushes from my fingertips.

"And now I'm swearing at you," I laughed, shaking my head.

"So. Look. There are promises that I feel are void because you ditched. I can't be only yours anymore," I said, then I choked on the next words. They wouldn't come.

I tried again.

"There are certain things I'll see through, though. I'll think of you every night, I promise. And I'll love you, forever sixteen. I will. I think I could love someone else differently? Like, when I get older and have a job and get mar- when I'm older, it'll be different. But you'll always be the time of my life. The love I learned. And no one will have a better smile or look better in tights. I will love you. I promise. And…you're the best," I finished, letting him win his dumb game at long last. "You'll always be best."

I stood up, brushing the debris from my pants and the tears from my face and turned to go, then paused.

"His name is Jacob Black. You'd hate him," I said, then patted the bench.

**Thank you, once again, for your kind reviews! Even the not kind ones, really. I still can't believe the response to this story!**

**ETA: I didn't realize my page breaks weren't translating over when I uploaded. So sorry! That's super jarring and would take me out of the story and I'm surprised more of you haven't yelled at me for it. I will try to pay better attention next time. So... edited to insert page breaks. Would XXXXXs be better?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yes, another update today. I couldn't help myself. Sorry.**

**Chapter eight**

"Okay, well, I figure we can drive up the coast to California, too," Jake said, showing me a map on his phone as I sat on his lap at my kitchen table.

"Really?" I asked, bringing the phone closer to my face.

"Yeah, yeah, I've taken that trip before. It's a blast."

"Can we go to Vegas?" I asked.

"Sure," Jake shrugged. "If you want. Shall we take in a Cirque du Soleil show or something?"

"Cirque du Soleil," I scoffed, shoving backward with one shoulder. "Celine Dion, please."

His mouth dropped open an inch. "Seriously?"

"Don't act like you're too good for 'My Heart Will Go On,' Jake. Just don't. I know you too well." I bit my lip to keep from laughing and he noticed; his eye narrowing, he started pinching my sides, making me gasp with laughter. "Okay! Kidding, kidding. Kidding! Stop!"

"I mean... I'll Celine if you wanna Celine. But can we come up with a back-up plan, please? I feel like those tickets are nasty expensive."

"Hmm. I don't know what I want to do, not really. Everything? I've never taken a trip like this. We could go anywhere."

"Sure," Jake said, scrolling down the map.

I was getting excited for the trip, going away for the first time on my own, getting out of Forks and maybe getting some perspective.

My mom had told me that maybe, once I see how big the world can be, I might decide to go to school out of state. I might get a whole new outlook on life.

"Jake?"

"Yo," he said, looking up.

"I'm like, crazy excited for this. Thank you."

He squeezed my waist and tipped me over, kissing my face with a loud smack of his lips.

"I'm going to Seattle this weekend," I told him. "I've got to find a new bathing suit and I want to find...I don't know. Actual summertime clothes for Arizona."

"Make 'em skimpy. It'll be hot as... well, hell, when we're there," Jake said, winking and smacking me on the butt.

"You pervert," I said, getting up to go the sink for a glass of water. "You want?"

"Sure. So. About us going away together...I don't want you to feel like...you have to do anything-" I noticed that his blush showed through his darker skin, twin apples of pink embarrassment blossoming on his cheeks.

"I've never felt that way with you. I mean, like, expectations," I told him, my stomach falling through a hole in the world. And I didn't. I hated that I didn't.

Thing about me and Jake was that we were friends, too. In addition to whatever it was that we weren't calling ourselves.

Maybe more friends than anything else, even.

Sure, we made out and fooled around, and once he even went down on me... but he was a turning point for me during this whole thing.

He was unexpected light in a dark tunnel, kind of leading the way.

I'd always love him in a way for that, for dragging me back to life and showing me that it's okay to laugh again.

"I know, I know. But...I don't want you to think I did this just to-"

"Jacob. If you spent all this time and cash just to get laid, I'd have to think you were sorely desperate," I laughed, and I was relieved that there was nothing negative in his gaze, no judgments or recriminations. The best thing about Jake is that he was content to simply be, and not just with me- with himself, with life. The terrible truth is that Jacob Black was much better at being a person at seventeen than I'll probably be _ever_.

"That is true," he said, narrowing his eyes and looking to the ceiling in fake contemplation.

"Besides...I want to. With you," I told him.

"You do?" His lopsided grin lit the room and maybe me a little bit, too.

"Yeah," I told him, and I meant it.

"Oh Christ," Jake sighed, looking down at his now tented pants. He pushed me off his lap and started walking, half crouched, toward the sink.

"Not in my parents kitchen!" I said balefully, my laughter choking in my throat.

"You're going to kill me, Bella," Jake said, hunching over the sink.

"Hey."

"What?"

"I want that, too, you know?" I asked. "I've got...wants."

"Wants?"

"Yeah, wants," I returned, my face heating.

Jacob cackled over the sink, his boner forgotten for the moment.

**xxxxx**

"Oh, Bella, I wasn't born yesterday," my mom said, pulling into our neighborhood, the car loaded with bags from Seattle.

"Mom, please don't."

"You're going away with a boy. Just...be safe."

"I will. Seatbelts, the buddy system-"

"I meant sex."

I blanched and adjusted the bags at my feet.

I knew there would be more to this mother-daughter shopping trip than just free clothes.

"Mom-"

"Even if you're not planning on it, it could happen."

"I know that."

"Do you know how to use a condom? It's not just the boy's responsibility to know about-"

"_Mother_. Yes."

"How do you know that?" she squawked.

"I had sex ed in the fifth grade! And again in seventh, and again in ninth. Also, I have friends. And I've seen _Never Been Kissed_. Just... they're _condoms_, Ma." I knew I was bright pink by then, but the hell with it. We'd had worse conversations, some of them recently. "Besides, they're kind of pretty self-explanatory."

"Bella, baby. If that's all there was to condoms, you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, gross. _Mom_."

"Look. Be careful, and don't do anything you shouldn't."

"Got it."

"And read the directions. Even if you think you know. Read the directions. Or maybe you could YouTube it," she said, turning to me and getting all excited. "That YouTube has everything, doesn't it?"

"Mother, I swear to God," I muttered, my cheeks now officially on fire.

"Bella," she sighed, turning to face our street, which we'd just pulled into. "We trust you. You've never done anything to lead us to not trust you, we know that. It's been a difficult...well. Dad and I both feel like this could be a really good thing for you. So. Don't prove us wrong."

"I won't."

"And not just with sex. No drinking and for the love of God, don't get arrested. Dad would die."

"I suppose I could come up with alternate plans for the bail money I've been saving," I offered, my cheeks losing some of their flush.

"Cute," she snorted before continuing. "And most importantly?"

I sighed. "What, Mom?"

"Have fun. Let yourself really see what's out there, Bella."

"I will," I promised, nodding and looking out the window.

"Remember to call at least once a day while you're out there having your fun," she said.

"I will."

"I know," she smiled as our house came in to view, the driveway vacant of my father's cruiser.

"I thought he didn't have to go in until nine tonight," Mom mused. "I wanted to go for pizza."

"We can order in," I suggested, taking my seatbelt off. As the wife of the chief of police, being ditched at the last minute was something my mom was used to.

It annoyed her, but she never complained too much about it.

"And we won't have to order pineapple," she said thoughtfully, grinning at the prospect of not-gross pizza.

"Amen," I agreed, opening the door.

I took my shiny, new bags filled with shiny, new possibilities upstairs and plopped them down on the bed. I set about emptying them just to admire a few things, like the strappy sundress that I'd never be able to wear with practicality in Forks.

My phone buzzed in my purse and I fished it out, seeing Rose's number flash.

"Bella! It'll be here in fifteen!" Mom's disembodied voice called from somewhere downstairs.

"'Kay," I called back, dropping my phone in my purse. I'd call Rose back after I ate, anticipating at least an hour-long conversation in which I described every detail of everything I bought...then text her pictures of all of it.

I walked downstairs and plopped down on the couch, exhaustion from the long day settling in, my stomach rumbling with hunger.

My mother walked in and sighed, looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"I gave in and ordered one with pineapple. He can have it after his shift."

"Sucker," I snickered, flipping through an old _People's Sexiest Man Alive_. Jude Law might be like, super old, but I still would.

"I'll call him, see when he'll be home," she said, stalking off.

"Well?" I asked when she came back in the room.

"Marks wouldn't put him through," she shrugged. "Said he was dealing with an emergency."

"Weird," I commented.

We hadn't seen any accidents or heard sirens on the way home, and in Forks, if there's an emergency, you hear about it awfully quick. I flicked on the TV and put my feet in my mother's lap. She absently pulled on my toes while I flipped through stations.

"Thanks for the clothes," I told her absently, staring at a music video.

"You're welcome," she said, snatching the remote from my hand. "Thanks for changing the channel." I pulled a face and let her flip through. She stopped on cable news, the big, bright red _Breaking News_ ticker on the bottom catching her attention.

We both sat up slowly as we read the words coming painfully slow across the screen.

"Miracle in small town Forks."

"_Us_ Forks?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"Shhh," Renee hissed, batting my arm with the remote before pointing it at the TV and turning the volume up.

"Right now, things are very unclear as details slowly pour in, but what we _can_ say is it's definitely miraculous, Dan," some polished lady with strategic blonde streaks and cherry red lips was saying.

"What? What was?" I asked urgently. I was hushed again by my mom, both of us slowly leaning toward the television.

"Any reports on where he's been, Anne? What his condition was and how he was found?"

"It's all unfolding, but from what Forks General spokesperson Don Gerandy has said, he seems to be in good condition, and we're hearing he wasn't found. He found home," Anne said, shaking her head, a smile on her face.

"Once again, Edward Cullen, missing for almost two years now, has reportedly been found alive this afternoon, apparently walking into the Forks Police station of his own volition. It's a shocking story, surely confusing and we'll have details as they come in."

"Anyone in custody? Do we know if he was alone?" Dan asked Anne...but I was frozen, utterly unable to move or squeak or emote.

Edward Cullen. Home. In Forks. Alive?

**He's _alive_. **

**It was pointed out to me that the page breaks weren't making it once I uploaded, so I'm super sorry about that! I went back and fixed that in the previous chapters. **

**As always, thank you for your amazing reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine**

My heart.

It did things the human heart should not be capable of doing.

It leaped, it stopped, it raced; it fell to my toes and jumped to my throat while the entire time, my body stayed still.

"Take me there."

"Bella, wait-" Renee said, holding up her hand and still listening to the TV.

"Take me there," I demanded again, my own eyes glued to the television where strangers with their palms pressed to their ears and their heads nodding at disembodied voices were telling me all about Edward.

"We're hearing that his parents arrived at the station just minutes ago. Charlie Swan, the Chief of Police for Forks, will give a press conference just as soon as things are clear, but we do know Edward Cullen is found and he's alive."

"Has anyone seen him, Anne? Do we have any idea of his whereabouts for the past twenty-two months?"

"No, Dan, we don't, but you know, it's so rare for a missing person to just turn up safe and alive after so long. At this point, everything suggests a case of a runaway," she said.

"No," I said. "He didn't do that. He didn't do that."

He did not put me through hell for almost two years.

He wouldn't.

"Bella..." my mom started, this worried look in her eyes.

"No way," I said, standing on my shaky legs. "No. Take me there."

The news feed cut to our strangely familiar town. It was so odd seeing it on the national news.

How did they get here so quickly? They'd all left the day Charlie called off the search.

How was he here after so long? So, so, so long.

A loop was being run of Carlisle Cullen, his arm over Esme, both of them jogging to the front doors of the station with Marks out front, holding the door open, shouting "No Comment!" at the reporters gathered there.

"We wouldn't even be able to get in, Bella," my mom said, but her keys were in her hands.

"You're married to the chief!" I hollered, crying but laughing, my head spinning.

Then the house phone started to ring.

I jumped and lunged for it, like he'd just be calling me.

"Oh my god!" Jessica screeched as soon as I picked up. "Oh my god!"

"What do you know?" I breathed out, panting into the receiver.

"Oh my god!" Jessica screeched again.

"I'm going up there," I said, then hung up the phone, but as soon as I did, it rang again.

On instinct, I picked up.

"Did you see him?" Rose asked. "Did you see him? He's so different, but it's him! It's him! Oh God, Bella-"

"Where did you see him?" I yelled, lunging for the remote that had been abandoned on the couch.

"CNN, turn on CNN _right now_," she ordered, and I hung up the phone.

"What channel is CNN?" I asked, already flipping the channels.

"267!"

And there he was.

I was face-to-screen with the television as this two second-long loop of surveillance tape from outside the station ran over and over.

It was grainy, but it was him.

He walked three steps, swung the door open and disappeared inside.

Over and over and over and over. I kept hitting the 30-second delay backwards arrow thing on the remote.

His shoulders looked wider, but sloped. Sagging.

His hair was so long!

It was over his ears and shaggy. So long!

He was in a jacket I didn't recognize with the hood pulled down, no knowing what color it was on the black-and-white film.

On the sixth or seventh play of the tape, I noticed.

His shoes were the same.

I'd written my name on the soles of his shoes, and he was wearing those exact same shoes!

"Those are his shoes!" I yelped, then clapped my hands over my face. "Mom! His shoes!"

I turned and Renee was wiping her own tears away, but there was something pensive there. But she just smiled at me anyway before picking up the phone.

I sat and stared at the television, unable to pay attention to anything else.

"Bella? Bella. Shelley said not to come up there. It's pure chaos, and we don't want to be in the way. We don't want to bungle anything they might be-"

"Did she see him?" I asked.

"Yes. It's him," my mom said with a disbelieving smile, before her face entirely crumpled. "Thank God. It's him."

"Screw Shelley! We're going," I said, heading for the door.

"We don't want to mess anything up, Bella! You know dad always said these first moments are crucial. We don't want to be a distraction."

"Screw all that, Mom! He's home! That's all that matters!"

See, I wasn't thinking of all the things my mom was.

That there would be fallout from this.

That maybe he had run away, and if he had...would anyone ever forgive him?

Or maybe he hadn't run away. Maybe something horrible had happened and if it had...would he even be the same boy?

And maybe, just maybe, having him back would be more heartbreaking than having him disappear.

I called the one person other than Edward that I absolutely had to speak to.

"Bella."

"Emmett."

"Bella, you can't even get near the place, it's insane-"

"Were you up there?"

"Yeah, yeah, me and Jasper went up there. I called you but you didn't answer and Bella, it's chaos. You can't even get close to the station, there are fucking cameras and people everywhere. They got the PA police over there, keeping everyone back- it's a madhouse."

"He's home."

"He's home," Emmett repeated. "It's so damned surreal."

"Right?" I breathed. "I've had this dream a thousand times." I gave a shaky laugh, hanging my head until my hair was a protective curtain around me and my phone.

"Seriously," Emmett echoed, then we stayed on the phone in silence for a minute or so, both of us deep in thought but sharing similar thoughts.

Then we both burst into laughter, the relieved, adrenaline-induced kind that you just jitter with, the kind that if you don't move, you'll choke on your hysterics or throw up.

"Do you want me to-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be outside," I said.

It just felt like...we should be together. All of us.

I paced the living room floor, my bag flopping against my thigh while waiting for Emmett, my mom still glued to the TV, but they were giving no new information, just saying the same crap over and over, the same stuff that had been replaying in my head for twenty minutes now.

"Sorry to interrupt, Anne, but we're going to cut to a live feed of Forks Chief of Police Charles Swan, giving a press conference."

My mother sat up straight, full of pride and excitement as she fumbled to press record on the DVR.

My dad was suddenly on the screen behind a small podium, his formal cap in place, his uniform in crisp condition. Seeing him on the national news just capped off the what I already knew would be one of the most memorable days of my life.

"This afternoon at approximately 5:15pm, missing person Edward Cullen came to the Forks Police Station under his own recognizance," Charlie said, then took a deep breath. "We have a person of interest detained in relation to the disappearance. No further comment on that for now. We won't answer any questions in an effort to protect the investigation-"

A bunch of questions were thrown at him anyway and Charlie looked kind of shell-shocked, leaning away from the mic.

"I knew it!" I crowed. "I knew-"

"Shh, shh!" Mom hissed again, wildly waving the remote at me.

"Chief Swan, can you tell us if he's injured physically at the moment?" a voice shouted.

"Mr. Cullen is currently under police protection and being looked over by staff at Forks General as a precaution but… he looked okay to me," Charlie said, and for the first time, he grinned at the crowd.

"Has he been reunited with his family?"

"Both of his parents don't plan on leaving his side for a long time," Charlie confirmed, and the whole thing kind of turned into a giddy, celebratory situation, like, the news actually had something wonderful to say, and people become high with humor and light-heartedness. Charlie's head bowed and a small chuckle was heard in the mic before he raised it once again. Maybe if he wasn't my dad I wouldn't have noticed, but there were tears in his eyes and emotion I'm not sure I'd ever seen before on his face.

"We're real happy to have him home. Real happy," Charlie said in a final comment before turning and being ushered away by a couple of cops with Port Angeles PD uniforms on.

It cut back to the news anchor who had info to spit out rather quickly, and suddenly, it was all moving fast again.

"...Chief Swan reporting that they have a suspect in custody. We're getting reports, nothing confirmed yet, that suspect is a La Push resident named Aro Vouch. I'm being joined by Kate Cavanaugh now, who's been covering the story in our LA station."

"Hi Dan, thanks. That's right, we're hearing that it's possible that Edward Cullen was being held in La Push, which is actually a neighboring town of Forks, this entire time. Suspect is Aro Vouch, a sixty-two-year-old long-time resident of La Push with an extensive record of assault and drug-related charges."

"To get a clear picture, Kate, how close is La Push to Forks?"

A map went up on the screen and I tuned out, knowing exactly how far La Push was to Forks.

He'd been _there_?

The entire time?

He'd been so close, this whole entire time? I could've ridden a fucking bike to him?

There was a tap at the door and Emmett walked in, Jasper, Jess and Rose quietly trailing after. No one said a word. They lined up behind the couch and together, we all stared at the TV.

He'd been so very, very close the entire time.

And it was just too much of a shock to even go _there_ yet. To even think that any one of us, or my dad, or his parents could've just... wandered over and picked him up.

There'd be guilt. That would have to come later.

"I know that fucking house! I know that house!" Emmett yelled, pointing at the TV when they showed an old, yellowing house with sagging vinyl in the middle of the woods, yellow caution tape closing off the perimeter.

My mom didn't even flinch at his language.

"You know who lives there?" Jess asked.

"No. But the house! When we were kids, we'd goof off in the woods. I've been by that place _so_ many times. So many times," Emmett said, his voice going from loud and declarative to soft and quiet all in one sentence.

"We'll be sure to update as information becomes available. Back to the situation in Bosnia..."

_But what about the situation in Forks_? I wondered as my mom quickly flipped to local news, where it was more of what we already knew.

Again, they played the loop of Edward over and over.

"Look at homeboy's hair," Jasper crowed, shaking his head. "Shit is crazy. This is so _crazy_."

And like that, we were all laughing again.

Mom ended up in the kitchen, baking cookies. Then a pie. Then a cake. We all sat around the kitchen, nervous and celebratory binge-eating, cramming anything and everything we could shovel into ours and each others' mouths.

The pizza never did arrive.

Turns out Main street had been blocked off because of media trying to bust through to the crime scene.

That _house_.

Charlie didn't come home that night but we stayed up until dawn, everyone gathered at my house, listening to Rosalie and Jessica plan the party of the century.

Maybe it was foolish to not stop and think of the fallout, to just let happy and relieved emotion reign, making us silly and giddy, like he was right there with us. Maybe it was foolish. But God. We deserved it, that giddiness.

I crawled into bed that night with my phone in my hand, my heart fluttering again when something occurred to me.

I could call him... and the possibility that he'd answer was there.

For the first time in two years that possibility was there, and once it took root in my mind, it expanded, taking over my thoughts until they boiled down to one fervid certainty.

_I should call him._

I panted hard and tapped open my contacts, his name right there- EDWARD in all caps. He'd changed it from the normal font because he had said he liked the idea of my phone giving a shout whenever he needed to talk to me.

I bit my lips, holding in some kind of noise that was threatening to explode.

I knew that though she kept it a secret from Carlisle, Esme paid that phone bill every month and that Charlie had given that phone back to Esme as a favor because he'd lost faith it'd ever be of any use in solving that case.

I hit the green call button and worried the corner of my lip.

It rang six times, but I didn't hang up. Truthfully, I had called before. Just to hear his outgoing voicemail.

"Hang tough. I'll call ya back," is what it said, my giggle in the background, a message recorded a lifetime ago.

It rang a seventh time.

It rang half of an eighth time.

"Is it you?"

His voice was his voice! But so different. Kind of... kind of like Edward's voice without that _thing_ that made him Edward. But still. Still.

"Oh God," I breathed, then froze. It was all I could get out. I was overwhelmed by my frenetic pulse and hot and cold; how three words in a long-ago voice could flip my world right side up was astounding.

And then silence.

So much silence. In my mind I'd recorded every second of the past two years, all the things I wanted to tell him. None of it would come forth or even seemed to matter, not really. Suddenly, everything that had happened in the past almost-two years kind of faded into the periphery of my existence, like a long-forgotten memory or maybe amnesia, things I could almost grasp but was slipping through my fingers. I'd been waiting for this moment, and now there was nothing I could even say, despite the questions firing in my brain, encroaching on the tip of my tongue.

"You don't have to say anything," I finally said.

"Okay."

His voice in my ear sent tears down my face and he remained silent, but in my heart, I said a prayer, thanking God for this exact moment.

I had learned to stop. To listen to his breath. To be here, right now, in this moment and be grateful for it. 

**Hello, everybody! Thanks for your continued support. **

**I'm trying like hell to keep up with responding to your lovely reviews, and I really love reading what you have to say about this story, so thank you for taking the time to tell me your thoughts, conspiracy theories, bribes, &c.**

**And to those of you who send me PMs, I've enjoyed our conversations. Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi. So, this is it. The introduction of dark subject matter.**

**Warning: the topic is sexual abuse. It is not graphic and is mostly implied; there are a few direct mentions of it beyond this chapter. The story is really about how to deal in the aftermath, not something meant to shock with description. I don't do that. Please do not read this story any further if this is a topic that upsets you, and I'm truly sorry if that is the case. **

**Chapter ten**

Later, I'd see on my phone that we had stayed like that for forty-six minutes and eighteen seconds, but it only felt like one.

I'd heard Esme's voice in the background, and he quietly said goodbye.

I cried into my pillow until I passed out at dawn.

Not sad, not happy, not relieved...just releasing tears.

My dad came in later that morning looking exhausted, but he had this sleepy smile plastered to his face, before I pounced on him, anyway.  
"I can't say anything that would compromise-"  
"Dad, are you serious right now?" I asked, hands on my hips, following him into the kitchen.  
"You don't want to mess anything up for him, Bella," Charlie said, and I felt guilty for wanting to pummel the guy when he was clearly ready for sleep. "Legally, I can't tell you anything about his case, anyway."

"Look, was he…" I trailed off, not knowing exactly what I wanted to know because I wanted to know everything. "Dad, please. Just... tell me anything you can?" I was right on his heels as he lifted the coffee pot, giving it a couple shakes and sighing resignedly when he heard a few weak splashes.  
He sighed once more and leaned against the counter, pot in mid-air.  
"By the time I got to the station, he was already sitting with Marks. I walked in and he stood right on up and asked to call his parents. We did-"  
"How did that go? Did they freak?" I asked, grinning.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Charlie beamed. "I made the call and he spoke to them briefly, just so they could hear his voice…and then, you know. It was crucial we spoke about what happened right away."  
"Someone took him." I had to say it.  
"Bella."  
"Did they hurt him?" I asked softly, and Charlie turned and hunched over the counter, his head bowed over the pot.

"Oh," I said, taking a step back. "But he's okay now. He's fine. I saw him walk on that tape…"  
"Bella. Let things unfold and if you see him…don't bug him to talk about it. The kid has been through hell."  
I knew the next words out of my mouth would be selfish, wrong and _so_ not socially correct, but fuck it. Edward was _home_.  
"Did he ask about me?"  
His mustache twitched and he sighed.

"He asked if you were still around, yes." He paused before continuing, fidgeting with the coffee maker before turning to look me right in the eye. "Bella," he said softly. "We're not so sure he's got a handle on how much time has passed."  
I blinked and suddenly, this cold reality hit me. _Our_ lives, mine and Emmett's and Jess's and Rose's and Jasper's and all of Forks's, may not have gone on normally, but while we were here living, he was somewhere else, and God only knows what had happened to him. Time had passed for Edward, too, and I had no idea what went on during that time.

"Bell?"  
"Hm?"  
"When something like this happens, well. You know. People change. He may not be himself for awhile. Or ever again."  
"Me neither," I whispered. Charlie looked like he was going to try to be comforting, like by patting me on the shoulder or chucking under my chin or some other unfamiliar, un-Charlie like thing, and I suddenly couldn't take it anymore. I turned and stalked out of the kitchen, completely unprepared for a whole new reality.  
My phone was buzzing with two new messages when I picked it up in the living room.

_Meadow—now! XO—Jess_

_Meadow behind cull. house—srsly-rose_

Without a word or goodbye to anyone, I grabbed my keys and ran out the door. Hopping into my truck, I put her in gear as soon as the engine rumbled to life.  
The problem with having no expectations is that you have no idea what to expect, either. So I just drove there, fast and on autopilot, just exploding, just so, _so_ ready for this reunion. Problem was, as soon as I parked the car, I could barely make myself get out.  
I should've brushed my teeth, combed my hair, put on make-up. And what? High heels and a prom dress? I sighed and shook my head at myself, then slid the seat belt off before pausing again.  
What the hell was I expecting, anyway?  
A kiss hello?  
A high five?

What if he didn't even know me anymore? _Did_ he know me anymore? Would I know him?  
"Bella," I whispered, "this is your dream come true. Get the hell out of the truck."  
I took a gulp of dry air and got out, swinging my shaking legs and stepping into the marshy ground. I kept my eyes on the mud and grass as I trekked through the familiar property, my legs remembering the way, until I heard them.

Emmett's unmistakable laugh. Jessica's incessant, vivacious chatter and Rosalie's throaty guffaws. And then a mutter, clear as day.  
They looked up as I approached, Jess pushing off from the old fence post to run to greet me. I smiled this weird smile and my cheeks felt painfully hot, the pulse in my ears drowning out whatever she was saying, but I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with Edward, though we were quickly approaching him. My insides didn't feel like mine at all. I felt sick and floating, shaking.

I held my keys in my fist, right over my throat, between my mouth and my chest. I walked on ground that I wasn't even sure was there.  
"You saw that shit? Dude, I thought the Sox had it-"  
"Bases loaded," Edward said- Edward! Said!- "no one could've called that."  
"Right?" Emmett interjected, like it was all normal conversation, but there was this glow all about Em, wonderment in his eyes as we approached…and then there was Edward.  
Edward in his red, hooded jacket, his new shaggy hair hanging just above his eyes, unruly all over.  
The thing is, I guess we'd all changed a bit, in our own various ways, I mean. It happens. You get older. You just don't see it in the people you look at every day.

But Edward looked older. Not old. Just older.  
Anything left from boyhood was gone. His jaw had stubble, and it was squared impossibly more, more angular, sharper; he may have even been taller, but there was something more than that, something glaringly not obvious.  
It was as though something other than time had aged him, too.

They both abruptly looked over when we approached and then, unlike before when I couldn't look, now I couldn't look away.  
One corner of his mouth turned up and his head cocked to the side, watching me as I watched him.  
"Hey, Bella," he said softly, his voice deep and quiet.  
And then I did exactly what I didn't want to do.  
I clapped a hand over my mouth and cried, one arm wrenched around my stomach, watching him through tears.

From the periphery, I saw the others move, dispersing quietly. Jessica may have even made a swoony noise, and my knees were definitely going to give.  
He started walking toward me and I started running for him, my arms out and my eyes squeezed shut. I ran and I didn't stop until he caught me. I was swooped up tightly, in the one place I'd wanted to be for so, so long.

"I finally found you," I sobbed into his chest but he said nothing, his heart thundering under his shirt, which oddly smelled of cigarettes and himself. I started crying harder, clenching my fists into that shirt, into that smell, determined to never, ever let go again.  
"Jesus," Edward breathed, his arms going tighter around me for a few moments before he set me down and took an abrupt step back, causing me to lose my grip.

I didn't know what the hell to say or do. It was like trying to grip onto quicksand in a panic. It was like trying to be in the past with no fucking way to get there. It was confusing and it was thrilling, and all I could do was stand there and stare.  
Edward let out a nervous, short laugh and turned his back for a moment. When he turned back around, the back of his hand was covering one of his eyes, his other hand holding on to a pack of cigarettes.

"Do you want me to go or…"  
"No," Edward said abruptly, sticking a cigarette in his mouth. He stopped and stared at me, his hand cupped around a Bic. "I just…I'm…I thought of you all the time." I watched the quiver of flame as he flicked it a couple of times before making purchase. He took a huge drag of the cigarette and made it a point to blow a thin plume of smoke above my head.  
"Me too," I breathed out. "And I want you to know I never…I never stopped wanting you to come home. I have so much to say that I don't know what to actually say." My laughter was weak, but at least it was laughter.

"People are saying I left on purpose, that I ran away or some shit. That didn't happen, Bella. Know this. I mean. I didn't leave on purpose. I just need you to know that. It's been on my mind for…uh. Almost two years, I guess. I didn't just take off on you."  
"I always knew that," I told him, quick and sure.

"That's so dumb," he said with a brush of a laugh. "All that time I was thinking, oh, man. I hope Bella doesn't think I dumped her. How's that for fucking stupid? Like life wasn't going on because I wasn't here."  
He smiled a smile I'd never seen before, jaded and not even a smile, before taking another massive inhale on his cigarette.

"Smoker, huh?" I asked with a laugh, hating that this had turned so awkward.

He smiled lamely at the cigarette then looked back up at me.  
"You can ask, you know," he said with that not-really-a-smile and a knowing tone.

"Ask what?" I knew.

"You know." He knew I knew.

"Okay," I said, and I had to steel myself for it because I was suddenly three thousand percent certain that I didn't want the answer to the one question I had been asking myself for two years now.

"What the hell happened?" I finally whispered, folding my arms across my chest in an attempt to stop the tremors wracking my body.  
"I left your house that night. I was going to meet Emmett here, right here," he said, waving an arm to indicate the meadow. "I was a little early and… this guy, he had a gun. I tried to give him my keys, my wallet, even my necklace, whatever, but. Uh. That's not what he wanted. And…that's all."

"I should've held on to you," I said, shaking my head. "I should've never let you leave. We should've just…I shouldn't have let you go."  
"Who could've known? This is Forks," he said with a flippant shrug, then his gaze shifted and I noticed the others closing back in, listening with concerned faces, trying to make sense of it, of everything.

"So," Edward said, speaking up and clearing his throat. "They're gonna put this guy on trial, probably pretty quickly. Two weeks or so? My dad said they're trying to keep the whole thing closed to the public because I was a minor when…just. But things could get out there? Like. Details, I guess?" He didn't look at any of us as he said this, just kept watching his cigarette burn between his thumb and forefinger, occasionally flicking it with a tap from his middle finger.

"They'll nail that motherfucker," Jasper said assuredly. "That piece of shit is gonna rot in prison before he burns in hell."  
Edward didn't respond to this; he just caught his upper lip in his teeth before looking back up at all of us.  
"It'd be cool if…uh. I don't want you guys to be there, in court and shit. Or really listen to the bullshit on the news, you know? It's…"

"Whatever you want," Emmett said quickly, looking at each of us with a "you'd better" look of meanness that for once, I knew we'd all follow. "It's whatever. No one gives a fuck about that. We're just glad that you're back, man." Edward shook his head then ducked Emmett's hand before it could ruffle his hair.  
"You need a haircut, beauty queen," Em laughed.  
"Seriously," Edward said. "I wanna cut it all off. Wanna buzz me?"

"You sure?" Em asked.  
"Yeah. I hate it," Edward said, and his voice was kind of cold. It wasn't hyperbole; he hated it.  
We stepped into Edward's house, a place that had become familiar to me over the past year and a half in a whole different kind of way. It felt like going to Esme's house.

Esme.  
Esme, who was at the door when we all trudged in, a hopeful smile on her face, a new kind of light in her eyes.  
"Are you hungry?" she asked Edward, and I noticed that maybe that wasn't a glow in her eye, it was a hopeful gleam, more than a bit tinged with a whole new kind of worry.  
"No. Thank you," Edward said politely, his mouth pulling into a smile, his tone kind of almost formal, as though he was speaking to a stranger.

"Okay," she said, rubbing up and down his stiff arm. "Let me know if you need anything."  
"Okay," he repeated, shuffling past, the group of us at his heels.  
"Mr. Cole will be here in twenty minutes," Esme said tentatively to Edward's back, which tensed and briefly paused.  
"Okay."

He kept walking and everyone followed, but I stopped short and looked at Esme for five full seconds before we both burst out with huge smiles and hugged so, so tightly.  
She pulled away, her hands over her mouth before putting them on her forehead.  
"It was the best day of my life," she whispered through her toothy smile.

"Mine, too," I said. She pulled me in again.  
"Thank you, Bella. For not giving up with me." I hugged her tightly and thanked her back before she wrung her hands again and looked at me.  
"It's like I don't know what to do with myself," she said with a laugh. "I wanted to plan a big welcome back party, but Carlisle said that's almost morbid and Edward just…didn't want that."  
"What does he want?"

"He wants to act like nothing ever happened, which is understandable," she said, then leaned in and lowered her voice, "but he's not the same boy and I think that if he expects everything to be the same it could…be bad."  
"Yeah," I agreed.  
"It'll be a long road," Esme said, bright again. "But God. It's the road I want. After the trial, we'll all just have time to rebuild and forge something…fresh."

"This trial-"  
"Will be hell. I don't know how I'll keep myself from killing that son of a bitch myself. When someone puts their hands on your child-" Esme said on a croak before cutting herself off with a wave of her hand, her eyes filling with tears. "Go. Go on upstairs. I want to yell at you all for making too much noise again," she said with a small smile. "I can't wait."

I found everyone in Edward's room, which was exactly the same, aside from two things: the stuff I'd shifted around during the time I spent there and the bottle of expensive-looking whiskey that was half full on top of his dresser.

"So your parents just let you smoke set?" Jasper was asking, picking up the bottle from his dresser.  
Edward shrugged, plugging in a set of electric clippers at the outlet near his bed.  
"I mean…it's not like…" he started his eyes narrowing in thought, and that was new. I'd never seen him unsure in this way, hesitate in this way, not with any of us, anyway.

"It's cool, you know? You don't have to explain anything," Jasper said, then took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Jess.  
Edward shook his head and leaned against the dresser for a second, and my mind took a picture of him right then and right there, like it knew that at any moment, he could just disappear again.

"I know it looks like trash," he finally said. "But it's like…"  
"Edward, dude. Forget it," Emmett said, grabbing the clippers.  
"He made me start," Edward finally said with a simple shrug, before pulling off his shirt and grabbing the towel over the back of the desk chair.

We all froze in place while Edward quickly slipped the towel over his shoulders, covering a huge black and purple bruise on his right shoulder and back...but it couldn't cover up the small, perfectly round scars on his torso and arms.

"Come on, dude. This shit is growing by the second," Edward said with a forced laugh, tugging at the ends of his hair.

Emmett cleared his throat and turned the clippers on while Rose ran out of the room with Jess tagging along behind her, their mouths screwed up, anguish and tears threatening to pour out.

But I stayed.

Jasper took another sip of the whiskey and sat on the edge of the bed.

"There goes the shoulder, right?" Edward said, rolling his eyes as he bowed his head so Emmett could start.

"You don't have to say anything about that shit," Emmett said, a tuft of Edward's hair puffing and tumbling down to the towel.

"Can I try?" Jasper asked after a few minutes of strained silence, standing and holding his hand out for the clippers.

I reached up to scratch an itch at my chin, but I was really wiping away a warm and silent tear.

It was just... all of it. Watching them together again, after realizing for so long that there was a probable chance I'd never see that again.

Because some terrible, hateful, awful things had happened to the one boy who least deserved it...and he was just trying to breathe through it with a shrug and a laugh.

And for some awful reason, one I knew that I knew but refused to say, I couldn't just crawl up on his lap and hold his face in my hands and tell him that I need to be close to him.

Somehow, he felt farther away from me than ever before.

Jasper worked the clippers around the nape of his neck with steady concentration and the room fell silent again until Edward shifted in his seat and leaned over and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the floor.

"You want?" he asked, holding it out to me.

I shook my head and bit my lip, hoping like hell no one would say anything about my tears, and mercifully, they didn't.

Edward sighed and took a drink, then held the bottle close to his chest, like it was his only friend in the room.

"Sit up, beautiful. I'm about to make you uglier," Jasper said.

"Can't get uglier than you," Edward quipped back, swinging his good arm back to swat at Jasper.

"Suck a dick, bro," Jasper mumbled, dodging Edward's hand.

"Never again," Edward said dryly, then he tentatively looked around at all of us as the oxygen left the room in one suffocating whoosh.

"It's coming out anyway," he said tiredly, like he'd already talked about it a dozen times, only I couldn't imagine him ever having to say those words out loud to anyone. I wasn't even sure I had just heard it. "So. That's what it is. That's what happened. A ton of other shit, too. But. Now you don't have to wonder. These are cigarette burns, by the way. The bruise is from when I broke the door down to leave. So. Now you know."

Jasper said nothing, he just resumed cutting hair, his motions less hurried, his face grim.

It was Emmett who took a shaky breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking his head.

"Doesn't change anything," Emmett finally said. "That doesn't matter to us. It doesn't change shit." Edward looked up at him, his expression unreadable.

"Of course the fuck it does," Edward spat. "It changes everything."

He dodged out of the way of Jasper's hand and stood up, taking his bottle with him, then grabbed the cigarettes from the top of the dresser.

"I don't know what you want anyone to say," Emmett finally said.

"I don't know. Act like something happened. Or don't. I don't give a fuck," Edward said, lighting the cigarette and sitting back down, but Jasper had already tossed the clippers back on the bed.

"Look, this lawyer and his team or whatever is going to be here in like ten. I can't go down there with fucked hair."

Jasper picked up the clippers, but I saw his hands shaking. Emmett lightly punched the closet door once and walked out.

I pushed off the wall and took the clippers from Jasper, who kept his eyes on the ground as he walked out.

"Maybe," I said, clearing my throat, "I'll keep it a little longer on top."

"Okay," Edward said as I stepped behind him.

Quietly, I helped him shed whatever part of this he could right now, neither of us saying a word. Secretly, I relished being able to brush his bare neck with my fingers. To feel the familiar skin of this ghost.

When I stepped around to see my work from the front, he quickly grabbed my wrist, making me jump, but he didn't let go.

"What?" I whispered, searching his face.

"I think he was gonna take someone else," Edward blurted out.

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I wanted him to just blurt out whatever he needed to, and I had a feeling we weren't even at the tip of the iceberg, but things would come, over time.

"He had me paint this room in the back of the house...same color as my room," Edward said, and I was struck for a moment.

His room?

He'd just referred to the place where he'd been hidden away and locked up as his room.

I reeled, but didn't say a word. I just waited. I'm not sure if that was for him or for me.

"And then he brought home a shitload of like, white shirts and jeans which is what he had me in...and he told me I was old. He hated that. Sick fuck," he scoffed, grinding his toe in to the carpet.

"And uh. He started going to JV ball games a couple counties over. He'd bring back the programs and highlight names. Like it was office work or some shit."

I stood there, the buzzing clippers between us as he stared off into space and I stared at him.

"So you left?" I softly prompted.

"He used to lock everything. He'd have his girlfriend sit there most days when he went to work, but... he kept guns in the house. And. I don't know. I hit her. Then I broke down the door."

And fuck my mind. Fuck my evil thoughts because the only thing I could think was...

That took you two years?

"He had a girlfriend?" I prompted. "Is she-"

"She got arrested. Her and a few other people that were...around. I mean. He was into a lot of sick shit. I think, I mean, I guess I was just his favorite," Edward said angrily, and then he shoved me back and promptly vomited all over the carpet.

I took a step forward when he was done, already hearing Esme pounding up the stairs. I grabbed the towel from his shoulders, tossing it over the vomit.

Edward stayed hunched over, forearms on his knees, breathing hard.

The door flew open and Esme came in.

"It's okay," she said. "That's okay. We can clean that right up."

Edward sat up, his eyes squeezing shut as he shook his head.

I wondered if Esme realized she was speaking to him like he was five years old, yet he'd survived what luckier, stronger men would never have to go through.

Edward got up and walked to the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Esme put her face in her hands for a full minute before dropping to her hands and knees, mopping up what she could with the towel.

"Should I get something?" I asked weakly.

"No, no. You go on ahead. We've got that meeting anyway," Esme said, without looking up again.

Everyone was gone by the time I got to my truck.

**If my warning at the top isn't strong enough, please let me know. I thought I did an okay job warning you all without giving up the farm, but it's hard to tell sometimes.**

**On a different note: the timeline. Yes, I fucked it up. Sorry! The timing is off. I changed stuff around in the middle of the initial write-up and clearly didn't pay attention in the editing process. Sorry about that! My bad. This is what editors are for.**

**If you're still with me, I'll see you tomorrow. I look forward to your reviews, even if you're not very happy with me right now. Or even if you're just letting me know you can't read this anymore. I totally understand if that's the case. Thanks for sticking with me up to this point. -TB**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven**

Later that night per the national news, I learned that the charges against Aro Vouch and four others ranged from kidnapping to sexual assault of a minor and every fucking thing in between.

Vouch had been arrested in 1997 for the solicitation of a child, which he'd failed to successfully pull off.

A quick google search told me that he had, indeed, been a registered sex offender.

The shock that ran through me landed as a rock of guilt in my stomach when I saw Vouch's mug shot. Just... a saggy old white dude, looked a little bit like that Uncle Jesse from the _Dukes of Hazzard_ reruns my dad loved. Uncle Jesse only meaner and more grizzled.

It took me a few minutes to— he looked familiar right away, but to piece it together took me a moment of staring at the computer screen, my shaking hand hovering over the keyboard.

It was the old guy in overalls from outside of the store the day Edward disappeared. I had been sitting in a truck having the time of my life, cat-calling my boyfriend while that monster had been planning this horror.

He knew.

When he spoke to Edward and glared at me, that son of a bitch _knew_ he was going to up-end the world.

And at the time, we'd laughed.

I couldn't bear to look at anything anymore.

"I don't know," I told my mom as she stood in the doorway to my room, "if it's better not to know details and just go on...or if he needs me to know them...to understand him."

"Bella, baby, you know this gonna be so hard..." my mom started, flinging a dishtowel over her shoulder.

"I know."

"Can I say something without you flying off the handle?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know if I even want you involved in this. It's a lot. A lot that I don't want you to have to hear about or deal with." Mom took a deep breath and held a hand out to stop me, and I realized that I had taken a deep, defensive breath to retort without even noticing. "The type of pain he's going through is _so_ intense, _so_ volatile. I just...I'm nearly just as worried for you."

"So, yes. Let's just all abandon him," I said hotly, and I would have done so even if she'd clapped her hand over my mouth. "Let's just leave him to deal with this because he hasn't dealt with enough on his own-"

"Bella, I didn't say that. I'm saying think. Reflect, on all of this. I know you care for him, and that is wonderful. But he might not be able to deal with that. Not right now."

"I won't pressure him for anything. I haven't and I _won't_," I balked.

"It's so complicated, honey," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's such a fine line. I want you to be strong. We've raised you to stand by those you love, and seeing you so fiercely determined to be there for him makes me prouder than I can ever say out loud. But Bella. Something like this has the potential to hurt. Forever. And I want you to be sure this is the road you want for yourself."

"Edward is all I've ever wanted," I said. She sighed and closed her eyes- not in irritation, not in a patronizing way- more like in that "I was afraid you were going to bring that up" kind of way. She took a deep, chest-expanding breath before continuing, her eyes open and staring into mine.

"He was, then. But it's important to remember that this kind of thing changes someone so much," she said. Not firmly or even realistically, but gently. "He's not likely to be the only boy you fall for."

"Life happens," I snapped. "I don't just run away when it does."

She gave me a soft smile and told me to turn out the lights before bed.

When my phone buzzed, my heart leapt. My lips pursed as I looked at the screen.

It was a text from Jake.

_im guessing shit got real..._

I was going to text him back, but then, I kind of really wanted to talk to him about it, about everything.

He hadn't known Edward before. He was totally on the outside of this and the truth was, he was my closest friend these days. I didn't feel as free with anyone as I did with Jacob, Edward included. Edward these days, anyway.

Just seeing Jake's name was like a refreshing breath, a weird kind of solace from the emotional mayhem that had been the past seventy-two hours.

"Hey," I said when he answered.

"Heya," Jake said.

"Um. So."

"Sooooo. Don't freak. I gave your ticket to Paul."

My eyes closed and I smiled. Jacob was forever making things easy for me, letting me off the hook, understanding. It made me feel like a rat and it also made me ridiculously, stupidly, wondrously glad that someone out there saw fit to put Jake into my life. I absolutely did not deserve him as a- as my special friend, but I was way too needy and selfish to let him go.

"Thank you, Jake," I whispered. "And I'm sorry."

"Psssh. Don't be sorry." Maybe I was delusional, but I swear I heard an easy, not forced smile in his voice. "Now I can drink scotch and watch ladies dancing in Phoenix. It'll be way better than dragging you along." I knew him well by now. His laughter was genuine.

"But send me pictures," I told him. "All day long, of everything I'm missing."

"You just want pictures of me all day long?" he ribbed.

"Sure," I laughed. "And maybe you could make Paul pose like I would in front of important landmarks, because he's my sub and all."

"I'll do that. Maybe I'll kiss him in the desert, too, since he's taking your place." I laughed out loud and rolled over on my bed.

"You're kind of amazing, Jake," I told him.

"I know," he sighed. "Can I be honest for a second?"

"Please."

"I'm real happy that that guy is back. I am. But fuck, dude. He's got _terrible_ timing."

I laughed quietly and took a breath.

"Seriously, Bella. Um. I'm gonna take this trip, so just... you hang out there and maybe...we'll just see what's up when I get back? Or...I don't know. There is no precedent or standard it's-not-you-it's-me kind of line for this. This is unchartered and weird. Not bad or unfair or whatever, just... weird."

"Definitely weird," I agreed.

"I'm...not sure if I'm being dumped or if I was a placeholder or what, but..."

"No! None of that, Jake. It's really confusing for me, too. I have no idea what I... I just need a little bit of time. Because my head is such a mess that I'd be no fun right now, anyway."

"Bah. You were never fun," he said. And just like that, the conversation veered to the beach, to cactus needles and Twizzlers. Anything we would have been discussing last week, before... before.

The next morning I woke up early and rolled out of bed. I put some sweatpants on and made my way to the kitchen, looking for juice or coffee or something, but there wasn't much.

Charlie had been so busy at the station, meeting with the DA and the media and mom had been fluttering about, keeping his clothes always ironed for random press conferences and making sure the house was always in order for the frequent drop-ins of the DA or any of his legal team. I had been surprised and a little wary that the court proceedings were going so quickly, but Charlie had mentioned that Carlisle was using every little bit of his clout and a lot bit of his money and last name to speed things along so that they could have everything over and done with, so Edward could go on like normal.

It's good in theory, right?

Grumbling something along the lines of "what good was a tidy coffee table if she couldn't offer them any coffee?," I slammed the cabinet shut and grabbed my keys, deciding to head to the grocery store in town for something of the Hostess variety and a cold OJ. The clock in the truck read 8:14, way too early for a weekend morning, but I'd given up on a good night's sleep two years ago.

I pulled into the lot and stopped short, my hands on the keys, which were still in the ignition. Edward, Jasper and Emmett were in front of the store and on bikes like when they were twelve.

I slowly got out of the truck; the three of them looked at me and said various greetings.

Edward was staring at my chest, which was pounding. I wondered if there would ever be a time when the sight of him wouldn't make my insides go batshit.

"Hey," I said, smoothing my hair back and looking down.

I was wearing his JV jersey...as I had nearly every night since he left. Since before he left. Since forever.

He'd finally finished getting that haircut, and he left some length on the top.

His clothes looked brand new and I supposed they'd have to, he'd grown so much in two years. Taller and practically right out of his skin.

"What the hell are you doing out so early, and what the hell are you wearing?" Emmett asked.

"Couldn't sleep, and my jammies, thank you very much," I said, stepping up on a speed bump.

"Jammies," he snorted, poking a straw in his Rock Star.

"Who let you get an energy drink this early?" I countered.

Emmett took a deep sip from his straw and grinned around it.

"We're going on a bike ride," Jasper said. "Ya want in?" He tapped the space on his handle bars and waggled his brows at me.

Yes.

More than anything, yes.

But Edward had yet to even really acknowledge me, and I wasn't sure that he even wanted me around.

I wasn't sure if he even liked me as a person.

I wasn't sure if we ever even broke up.

I just wasn't sure.

"Fuck, I forgot a danish," Emmett said, hopping off his bike.

"Uh. Me too," Jasper hedged, just dropping his bike between his legs and neatly swinging his leg over it as it fell. I rolled my eyes at their failed subtlety but stayed put.

Edward remained on his bike, his feet planted on the ground, those old tennis shoes still on.

I wanted to kind of ask how boys got over shit so fast, how he could just do this with Emmett and Jasper and not me.

But I didn't want to pressure him, to make him say things he didn't mean...or worse, things he did.

I hated that I expected something from him.

But I kind of couldn't help it.

For the entire time, I'd been waiting on this, and now that he was back...I just wanted more and more. There was a time then when I tried to bargain with God, saying that if he'd just bring him back home, if i could just see him once, then I'd be happy. I promised.

Well, I broke that promise.

I wanted it all back because this wasn't good enough.

"You're driving now," he said, nodding toward my mom's car.

"Yeah. I…aged."

He nodded and stood, straddling the bike, sticking his hands in the front pocket on his sweatshirt and I was struck by how much older he looked. I hadn't noticed Jasper, Emmett or Mike turning into men but then again, I saw them every day.

"Sorry about yesterday," he finally said, rolling the bike back and forth.

"Are you kidding?" I waved him off. "Don't even be sorry. About anything."

He pursed his lips, looking out at the morning sun, then looked back at me.

"Don't do that, you know?" he finally said. "Don't make me not accountable. I'm not a six-year-old or a moron."

"I know," I said, my eyes wide, my voice rushing. "I know. I just...I'm not gonna be mad at you for coping, or whatever."

He nodded and looked down, toying with the zipper of his sweatshirt.

"If things were the way they were then, you'd never let me live down puking on your feet."

I fought the urge to grin and cry; that was true. But then, nerves never would've made him puke on my feet, either.

"Oh. Um," I reached behind my neck, fingering the knot of his twine necklace. "Your mom gave me this. I've been wearing it like...an idiot. I showered with it so it got a little warped, I'm sorry-"

"No. No, keep it," Edward said, backing the bike up. "I don't want it. Looks better on you anyway."

I dropped my hands and bit my lip to keep from frowning.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"It'd be easier if...I mean. I can't tell what you want. You're not wearing any of your old stuff, but then you cut your hair...you don't want the necklace or..." I wanted to say _me, you don't want me_, but I just let it go.

He blew out a breath then spit over his shoulder.

"I have no idea what I want," he said simply, just as Emmett and Jasper came back out holding danishes, eggrolls, and chicken wings.

"Ready?" Edward asked them.

"Power up, punk," Emmett said. He stuck an entire eggroll in his mouth and picked up his bike by one handle.

Edward was already standing up, ass off the seat, pedaling out of the lot.

**xxxxx**

There was a tap at my window and I flopped off of my bed, scrambling over to open it, not giving a damn if my mom heard or not.

I slid open the window and Edward slid in. I would not let the memory of what happened last time he did this ruin this moment.

He had come to me.

He had come to me in _our_ way, and I would not taint it with worry or tears or the ghosts of what had happened and what we know now could happen.

"Hi," I said, watching as his eyes trailed over every detail of my room, finding everything just the same.

"It still smells like you," he said, half a smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you're here," I told him, blinking back tears. "I wanted to call or come over...but I didn't want to-"

He grabbed my shirt and put his mouth on mine, something restrained and determined and kind of painful. It was lip to lip, but it wasn't a kiss. It was an act of desperation and confusion and _trying_.

I grasped at him, trying to return the kiss. I grappled and arched, trying to kiss back, wanting to do this, but something was...off.

Not that I was looking for familiar; I'd have been willing to start something completely new and different, but this was not that. His hands went to the tops of my arms, his hands shook and squeezed. I stayed frozen to the spot, not necessarily scared, but not exactly at ease. He pulled away with a heavy breath and looked me up and down, my face a mask of anxious confusion.

"Forget it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to go. "Just forget it."

"Edward, what-" I _hated_ how breathless I sounded.

"This was stupid. I just thought if I- you know what? I'm sorry. Just...go to sleep. I'll see ya around."

"No, wait, stop!" I said, trailing him to the window, but he'd already taken ahold of the tree limb.

"Just fucking forget it," he said, before slipping in to the night.

I stood there, kind of, maybe more empty than I'd been before he came in.

And I just gaped like a fucking moron while he slipped out of that window again.

**xxxxx**

"I don't want to do this," I told Rose a couple of days later, sitting in her Honda Civic and running a hand over my tired eyes.

"Well. Some things, we just do," Rose said, flipping up the visor after applying her mascara.

We were parked at the beach in fucking La Push, of all places.

Apparently, Edward had insisted the old bonfire stomping grounds weren't off limits.

I still couldn't figure him out.

Hanging out in La Push, the _meadow_ of all places, all that he insisted on retaining. On just acting like nothing happened.

But me? Hell no, he was having no part of me.

Baseball, apparently, was off limits as well.

Em brought him next season's Forks High Roster and he threw it away.

Hitting balls in the meadow, okay; back to the team, not okay.

Bonfire, okay.

It was the night before preliminaries for his trial were set to begin, and I only knew that because of the news and my dad, who'd have to be there to give a deposition about the missing persons case and his return, or so I think. I'm not down with the rituals of a court case, and I was way too much of a chicken to ask or even eavesdrop on purpose.

"Rose," I sighed, then trailed off, shaking my head. "It hurts."

"He hurts," she countered. "Be there for him, whether he likes it or not."

I understood that, I did, but it occurred to me that just because Edward was in pain that it shouldn't necessarily undermine mine.

"For all of us," Rose said after a few moments, her hand on the door handle.

"Rose," I sighed, wincing at her wince the moment I started to speak. "We're not the same. It's like, we keep trying to make it all the same, like we're trying to live like we were two years ago, but we can't go back-"

"Bella. I get it. Just... get out of the car."

I reluctantly did as she asked and we headed over to where a swarm of people were already there, including Jess, Jasper, Emmett and Edward.

Everyone and their brother (in three cases, literally) showed up to get a glimpse of Edward, who sat next to the fire on a log, his trusty bottle in hand, staring at the fire while people partied and milled around him, oblivious to his state.

I accepted a cup from Jess who dragged me over to their spot, saying hey to a few people we knew who were just... watching.

Watching to see if we were Edward and Bella...and we were not.

Sitting down adjacent to Edward, I pulled out my phone and sipped at my cup while Rose and Emmett took turns telling a story about some movie they went to the other night. Jess described in great detail some "ho from the fro-yo stand."

Tanya Denali, who'd graduated the year before, both from Forks High and the school of hard knocks, came sidling up with two cups and a smile.

"You want?" she asked, handing Edward a cup and taking the seat next to him. His shoulders tensed and if a guy could collapse into himself, Edward looked like he would do just that. I don't know that I've ever seen a person look quite that uncomfortable in my life.

"Thanks," he said, then proceeded to use beer to chase his whiskey. I looked up from my phone to see her light a cigarette and watch him with her black-lined, bloodshot eyes.

"Do you want me to sit someplace else?" she asked after a while.

"No, you're all right," Edward replied, turning his head so that his chin rested practically on his shoulder, his stare focused away from everyone. Tanya smiled and settled herself in comfortably, almost touching sides with him but not quite.

I rolled my eyes and my stomach did the same.

I looked at Rose who waved it off with a small sneer and grinned at me softly. Jasper got up and stood in front of me, demonstrating his version of the Dougie, spilling beer all over my feet and himself, trying to make me laugh, to distract me, to cover them from my view.

I swigged what was in my cup and held it out, asking Jasper for another.

"There's my girl," Jasper said, eagerly taking my cup.

"...No, so she gets fired from the fro-yo stand at the mall-"

"Northland?" Rose asked, interrupting Jess.

"Of course, Skanks 'r' Us. So I told Mike, I told him- look, if you absolutely have to go to the fucking Gap, we're driving out to Seattle. I don't want him near that yogurt peddling whore."

Rose snorted with laughter and Jessica hit her arm.

"Anyway. He's all, 'I swear I didn't touch her,'" Jess mocked his voice, deep and grumpy, and even I snorted into my cup. "And I'm all, that bitch would screw anything that was still long enough for her to sit on, and so he gets offended!"

"What?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"Like, offended that I think that he couldn't find someone un-skanky to cheat on me with!" Jess cries, incredulous, but she's drunk, and so this is very funny for her.

"You guys are like, the most dysfunctional couple ever," Rosalie scoffed. "Seriously. Get help."

"Baaah," Jessica groaned, sitting back. "I love that dumb shit."

I shook my head, still smiling. Then Jasper was back with my drink, and Tanya was whispering something into Edward's ear, but he was leaning away from her with this look on his face, one I'd never seen before. He looked like one of the opossums Charlie used to catch and release out by our shed. Before he let them go, when they were locked in the cage- so they looked paralyzed with wildness and fright. Or maybe fear of the unknown.

"Move back," I snapped at Tanya from across the fire. "God, you're like some-"

"It's okay," Edward said quietly. But everyone heard it.

"Mind your own business much?" she snapped back at me.

"Can't you see he's freaked out?" I retorted, and everything got all quiet. Over the dim light, I noticed Edward's face turn a shade of humiliated red.

"Bella. Just shut up," he breathed, his tone dull and falling around my ears like when you're having a nightmare where you're in a dark, empty room and echoing footsteps are approaching but you don't know who's coming. Edward gulped the rest of his drink and when Tanya moved in closer, he accepted the already lit cigarette she offered to him.

I looked at Rose, who was looking at me with all the apologies in the world in her eyes and Jess actually ogled.

"I'm leaving," I told Rosalie quietly. "I tried. I can't."

She stood up and had her keys in hand, tossing her beer on the beach.

"Wait. You're leaving?" Edward asked, like all that hadn't just gone down.

"Yes."

I didn't want to have petty high school feelings and emotions right then. I didn't. He'd been back from hell, and he needed patience from me. So, I smiled and gave a nod while he grabbed a fresh drink for himself.

Rose and I were halfway to the lot, my arm linked with hers. She was walking so quickly I could barely keep up, stumbling along behind her, when I heard Edward call out my name.

"Where're you going?" he asked, a slight slur catching the rasp of his voice.

"Home," I said with a shrug, looking at him over my shoulder. "Go on, Rose. I'll catch up," I told her.

Edward stopped in front of me and I rocked on my heels, my hands shoved in my pockets, not sure how to not touch him.

"I had to get lighter fluid from the car," he said, his hood now pulled up.

"Oh."

"Why're you going again?"

"I don't want to see you with Tanya," I said truthfully. He looked off to the side, not saying anything.

"Rose is waiting on me, so," I said. I turned to walk away, quickly, so he wouldn't see the tears that were gathering in the corners of my eyes. He didn't need to see that.

"Can you just not move so fast?" he asked. "Can you please just...give me a second?"

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my forehead, not willing to look at him again, because the thought of crying again made me want to fall over in exhaustion.

"I probably shouldn't have told you to shut up," he offered quietly, then he chewed the corner of his lip for a second before continuing. "But I've got enough to be humiliated about and when you... did that? When you acted like I needed a savior..."

"If you want to hang out with Tanya, it's fine," I lied. "It's just that... well, Edward. You kinda looked like you wanted to bail."

"Tanya's easy," he said.

"Yeah, no shit. The whole county knows that."

"Not like that," he said, so tired. So worn out.

"Like what, then? Because she seemed to be making you really super uncomfortable."

"Not as much as you do. With you, I feel like... like... like I want to take my skin off before I ever touch you again. Like thinking of you and me? How it was before? Makes me sick, Bella. I mean, literally sick."

"I don't look at you any differently because of that."

"Well, maybe you should!" he sort of yelled, and I was so sad for him in that moment, but I held it together because I know he needed me to be strong for the both of us. He took a deep breath before continuing and his voice was calmer, softer. "You should, because I _am_ different. You know? I am. And me and you are like, tip-toeing around this _thing_ like we can just be the same people, but we can't. Ever. And so I don't even know if...if..."

"If what? If we even still like each other?" I asked.

"I'm so far from even going there," he said, shaking his head. "Not even that. Just...I don't want to have to lay any of that shit on you. I've done and seen sick shit that sometimes...even now, I can't get out of my head. And I hate myself for it."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't even matter whose fault it is."

"Okay," I said, nodding slowly. "Do you want me to stay, then? Sit with you?" Because I would. I would have been there in any capacity he wanted me.

He licked his lip, which had started pulling into a frown. He backed up, just a little bit. But it was enough. I got the message.

"It's just so fucking hard to be two different people, Bella. I'm me... but then I'm that kid in the house, too. And I don't know which one... I mean, I just don't know. I want to push you away and I want you right there—it's like that with everything."

"I can be your friend," I told him, tipping my head up to find his eyes. "I can do that."

He pulled me in with one arm and held on to me, hugging me close.

"Bella?"

"What?"

"I don't want to go back to that fucking party," he laughed.

"No, we can-"

"Ready bro?" Emmett asked, approaching with Jasper.

"Yeah," Edward said over my head before turning to me. "I've got this thing to do...so."

I looked at the three of them.

"What thing?"

Emmett and Jasper exchanged a glance and Edward backed away from me, his arms extended at each side.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I'll see ya around, okay?"

"What thing?" I demanded, walking forward. Emmett sighed and huffed at me.

"A guy thing. No vaginas," Emmett said, tapping my forehead, but something wasn't right.

"What are you doing?" I asked, dropping my voice. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of business," Jasper said and by that point, we were at the edge of the woods.

I noticed the bat in Jasper's hands swung up over his shoulder, and he glanced behind himself before stepping in to the dense trees.

"Ya coming?" Emmett asked, resigned after Jasper and Edward went ahead.

I followed into the dark, relieved when Jasper pulled a flashlight out.

"If we get lost or turned around-"

"We won't," Emmett said, and it didn't seem like we would because Edward sure looked like he knew exactly where he was going.

We walked for what seemed like an hour, until the branches had cut up my arms and legs and my body ached all over and my mind was growing weary.

Things started to make sense.

We stood in front of a yellowing, sagging house, the perimeter taped off with caution tape.

The three of us stood just behind Edward who stood on the first step, his chest heaving as he stared at the shack of a house, rage like no other I've ever seen etched in to his face.

"Let's go," I said, touching his arm, but he shook me off sharp and fast, like my fingers were hot pokers.

Emmett grabbed my elbow and pulled me back a few steps, shaking his head at me.

_Let him be._

Without taking his eyes from the house, Edward reached out and took the aluminum bat from Jasper then stepped under the tape.

He splintered the door and broke the knob off in six loud, ear-splitting cracks of the bat.

Then he kicked the door in.

I gave Emmett and Jasper a wide-eyed stare, my mouth dry, my heart pounding. I went to step, to go after him, but Jasper caught me by the waist.

I stopped counting the cracks and bashes at seven, closing my eyes and resting against Emmett, jumping with each shattering noise.

Edward finally came back out, his face white but his hair dampened with sweat. He tossed the bat on the floor and grabbed the lighter fluid from Jasper, who had somehow produced a second bottle from the pocket of his sweatshirt.

They walked the perimeter of the house, hosing it down with accelerant while I just stood and watched.

After, Edward stood back and stared at the house for what seemed like forever. His face was blank; he simply watched it, like he was etching it into his memory.

Then he took out a Zippo and lit a cigarette before tossing the still-lit lighter at the house.

He turned and walked away, the flames rising behind him.

Emmett pulled at me hard and fast while Jasper took out his cell and called the fire department. Edward just kept walking.

The woods filled with smoke, the smell of Edward's stolen years clouded around us, but on we walked.

**xxxxx**

It stayed quiet, even when it was obvious Edward was crying.

His boys didn't go rush to comfort him or say a word, and neither did I. We just let him keep ahead, leading us back the way we came while he cried with harsh, heavy, wet heaves, choking on his own breath, but on he went.

When we reached the edge of the property, Rosalie was there with Emmett's running car.

Edward turned and glared at him, his eyes puffy and red and pissed.

"I just texted her to be here with the car," Emmett shrugged. "She don't know shit."

We got into the car and Rosalie backed out, not saying a word.

I sat between Edward and Jasper in the back, all of us too tired, too emotionally drained, just too much to even speak. This was us as we had been for years, crammed in the back seat of a car and up to no good; yet at the same time I knew it was not us. This was a definitive turn into whole new people. Strangers with a secret.

"Big fire out there tonight," Rosalie commented. "Hope everyone is okay."

Edward leaned his head against the window and Jasper slouched back, staring out into the black.

Emmett took Rosalie's hand and held it on his lap, swallowing hard and staring straight ahead.

We all knew.

But no one was going to say it.

We drove for twenty minutes until we pulled up at my house, where I got out without a word.

I wasn't worried.

No one would say we went missing from that party.

No one would be able to blame him.

There was a ton of people who'd want to see that place burn. While Edward was obvious, who would come after him for that?

Charlie wouldn't.

And I knew it.

**The response to this story continues to amaze me. You guys are so great with your reviews. I'm trying to keep up with responding to you, just bear with me! Thanks for staying with me, I know it isn't easy. **

**Have a great weekend, and for the Americans- have a safe Memorial Day. I'll see you all Monday!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve**

"Joe got the truck there before it burned to the ground," Charlie was saying, walking in at around four that morning. I wasn't sleeping, or at least I was sleeping lightly, so I tiptoed out to the landing, pausing to see what was going on. I listened at the top of the stairs as Renee started the coffee. Charlie couldn't go to bed now; he had to be at the courthouse by eight.

"What are they thinking?" Renee was saying.

"They're thinking someone burned the damned house down," Charlie sighed and I heard a drawer slide open, the silverware rattling with Charlie's shot nerves. "Inside was destroyed, and not by fire."

"What about the investigation?" Renee asked.

"We've been through it already a hundred times. We have everything we need, pictures too. I talked to Harry and Carlisle about razing the place, anyway," Charlie said, and I heard the chair legs scrape across the linoleum.

"You think it was Edward?" Renee asked.

"I think...that there were no witnesses and after an investigation, we'll have a cold case of arson."

It was silent for a few moments before my mom spoke.

"Bella was out there tonight."

More silence.

"We can't let her just run herself into the ground, Charlie."

"She won't. She's a smart kid."

"She's a kid desperate to help her friend," Renee said. "I don't know that there's anything she wouldn't do for him. The problem is she can't fix this. She can't... she can't fix him, heal him. And I think she's gonna end up in a world of mess trying." The room went silent except for the faint clinks of stirring spoons and uncomfortable parental shuffling. Finally, my father spoke, and when he did, his voice was quiet and gruff.

"Let's get through this trial. The whole city is a mess right now."

I showered the smoke and the night from myself and crawled back in to bed, my mind a whirl of distorted images and dark, vague flashes of painful emotion. And, oddly enough, the faint sense of peace.

Charlie came and tapped on my door before he left. I didn't bother pretending to be asleep. He lingered in the doorway for a minute, the familiar scent of his aftershave wafting over. He was wearing his formal uniform, and even his mustache seemed trimmed and groomed.

"I get it," he said after a few moments of us staring at each other warily. "I get being angry, and I get loyalty."

"Okay?" I said slowly.

"Don't lose yourself, kiddo. Don't forget whose kid you are."

"I won't, Dad."

"And in case you forgot the lecture from when you were five years old, don't play with matches," he added, just to make sure I knew he knew. He turned to go but I called him back.

"Is... is that guy Vouch going to be there today?"

"Yep."

"Will Edward have to see him?"

"He doesn't have to look at him. Not today. When he takes the stand, he'll have to point him out, though."

"But today they'll be in the same room."

"Don't worry about that, Bella. Have a good day. Enjoy the summer."

We stared at each other, both knowing how dumb that sounded.

**xxxxx**

Around noon, Jake showed up with a cell phone full of pictures and an olive pizza.

"God, it's beautiful," I said, staring at his phone screen. I scrolled to the next one of a very obviously drunk Jake with a lei around his neck.

"You moron," I scoffed.

"It was a great time without you," he quipped back, polishing off the last of his pizza crust.

"I wish I could've gone," I mused.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well, under different circumstances...yeah."

"Well. You were missed," he said easily, and I had to stare at him for a few seconds to make sure that he wasn't hurt, that I hadn't hurt him. It was enough that I hurt; I couldn't bear the thought of Jake hurting, too. "How are things holding up around here?"

"Oh, you know. It all went to hell without you," I teased.

"That's always the way," he sighed, rubbing his stomach. "Seriously. You okay?"

"Yeah. It's just, you know. Hard. He..."

"I heard about it on the news," Jake said, wincing. "It's crazy. Poor guy. I couldn't even, ick," he said with a shudder. And I felt like such a traitor, a worm, discussing this with Jacob. It was weird. The whole world knew. I mean, the whole world would forever know what had happened to Edward. Really personal, terrible things that happened to him, but to discuss them with Jacob just seemed so wrong.

And suddenly, I felt really proud of Edward, for even showing his face. Anywhere.

"He'll be okay," I said, moving the pizza box aside.

"What about you?" Jake asked.

"What about me?"

"Well. Sounds like an uphill road for him. How're you holding up?"

No one had asked me that yet. Edward was our sole focus, as he should be, but Jake didn't know Edward. All he knew was a news story. It was me he actually cared for.

"He's not the same," I said, suddenly pouring it out to Jake, no matter how unfair it was to him or to Edward. "I don't think he'll ever be the same, and that's understandable. That's normal. That's fine. But Jacob, it's like losing him all over again, and this time it's final, so it's almost like. In this weird way...it's worse this time."

"Makes sense," Jake said with a thoughtful nod, sinking further down into the couch, his feet on the coffee table. "This time, you can see him, but he's still not there. And if he's not there, inside himself..."

"Then he's nowhere. I can't even hope for him to come back. Whoever he was is gone. I think. I don't know. How unfair is that of me, though?" Instead of sounding despairing or terrible or even mad, I sounded whiny, my first indication that I was the most selfish asshole on the whole _planet_.

"This whole thing isn't fair," Jake said, lolling his gaze in my direction before he gave me a lazy smile.

I gazed back and patted the side of his face too hard before giving him a smile back. He retaliated and caught me in a headlock, then gave me a noogie, of all things.

"You're absurd!" I shrieked, trying to squirm away from him.

He wrenched me over and came in to kiss me. I flinched.

"I kissed him. He kissed me. But it wasn't..."

"I figured," Jake shrugged.

"You did?

"Well. Come on. Yeah."

"It wasn't...it was, once. It wasn't what you're probably imagining it was."

"Whatever it was? Bella," he laughed, not uncomfortably or bitterly. Just... like Jake. "It's okay. This whole thing is so weird, and I don't think anyone has any right to...you know. Have normal expectations. I mean. Don't go taking on the football team or anything," he said with a smile. "And just. If you're committing to that, let me know."

I sat back and shrugged, utterly at a loss for what to say.

"He doesn't want me. So. It doesn't matter."

"Are you saying I'm second place?" Jake asked with mock excitement, pumping his fist in the air.

"I didn't mean it like that," I laughed, grabbing his fist. "I just mean..."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean. The two of you are such totally different people and situations! I can't even compare them. All I know is that I'm happy when you're around."

"So my plan to make you miserable is failing?"

I laughed and just like that, I let it all go. Somehow, his inability to be serious was exactly what I needed. So... I couldn't take advantage of him. I couldn't just allow him to be my source of comfort without being totally straight with him.

"Listen... Jacob. Right now? Kissing, and all that could come with it? I just don't know where my head is even at, and I don't want to lead you on. Because... because, the truth is that I'm just not over him. I'm not saying I don't like you, because I do. I think? You know?" I hated the falter in my voice, the sound of my own indecision. But I plunged ahead, determined to be straight with the guy. He deserved that and so much more from me. I cleared my throat before continuing. "If we keep on like, making out or whatever, it'll be like... I mean, it's exactly that I would be leading you on or letting you think that I'm over Edward, or that I'm ready for more with you, when clearly, I'm just not. I'm so not, and so that's why-"

"Bella," he said, holding up a hand and smiling. "Stop talking."

"Stopping."

"We don't have to make out, you goon. Or cop feels. Or even get down with the hanky panky. Truthfully?" He smiled crookedly and shrugged into his shoulder before knocking me in the arm. "I don't know how involved I even want to get with this whole thing. You being there for him, which- don't get me wrong, it's great and you should- but like, where would that leave me?" I nodded and looked down into my lap. "At the same time, well shit. School's out, I ain't got no job, and it's a boring afternoon. So." I waited for more, but he was giving me this expectant look.

"So?"

"So, can't we just, like, leave it at that? You have so much going on, important shit to deal with- why pile it on? For either of us? Can't it just be what it is? You know, simple?"

"What is it?" I asked, because I had to. I looked up at Jake, who was tapping his chin with one finger, I assume trying to settle a definition on us.

"Special friends."

"Special friends."

"Yeah. Friends with... maybe potential."

"I like that."

**xxxxx**

Jake stayed until around dinnertime, when he had to go help Billy in the kitchen and my mom sent me out to grab some chicken breast and a tomato.

Outside of the Albertson's I saw Emmett holding a plastic bag and dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and a sagging tie, his hair parted on the side and combed.

"What the hell is this?" I scoffed, waving my hand at his clothes.

"Fuck you, I'm handsome," he said, but his heart wasn't in it.

Neither were his eyes.

"Em?"

"Long day," he muttered, breathing out slowly, then waving at me, keys in hand.

"Emmett, where were you?" I asked cautiously, following him back out to the lot.

"I went," he said, keeping ahead of me.

"To the trial?" I squawked.

"Yeah. And don't...make a thing-"

"He didn't want us there," I said.

"He changed his mind. He asked me to go," Em shrugged, opening the car door.

I don't know what I looked like, but my guess would be really freaking devastated, because Emmett leaned over and opened the passenger door from the inside.

"Get in," he said reluctantly, and I did, just as it started to rain.

"It's nothing personal, Bell. I just think on some level...he needed someone to know. All of it," Emmett said, just ripping the band aid right off.

"Okay..."

"I wouldn't judge him for it. Any of that. He knows it. And that's all."

"He thinks I would?" I asked, incredulous.

"No, Bella," Emmett sighed, shaking his head. "It's just...different. After today, I wouldn't have let Rose in there. No way, no how."

"Why?"

"Because!" Emmett exclaimed, getting frustrated, irritable. "Because the shit I heard in there I never want to hear of or think of again. Okay?"

"It wasn't his fault," I said softly, staring out at the rain.

"Exactly," Emmett said. "All this shit went down and he was defenseless. And the crap this guy did to him is so fucking...it's so sick, Bella, I threw up. He doesn't want you to feel that way. He doesn't want anyone to know some of this stuff. And I don't blame him."

"It's pride?" I asked.

"Some of it, yeah, man," Emmett said, his fingertip tracing the steering wheel. "You know how like...God, this will sound dumb. You know how you trip and fall, and if people see it it's so fucking embarrassing, so you try to laugh or whatever, but everyone knows that you're just dying inside anyway? Or...even if you're alone and you fall on the ice, you get all embarrassed? Forget it. Not comparable."

I waited, but Emmett just gazed out the window.

"It's shame," Emmett finally said. "And he's got no idea what to do with it or how to get rid of it."

"He has nothing to be ashamed of."

"You don't get it," Emmett sighed. "You just don't get it."

True. I never could see the flaws in Edward.

"I want to, though," I whispered.

"I gotta get home," Em said, ignoring me. He started his car and hunched over the steering wheel, like the weight of the world was on his back.

"Listen," Emmett finally said, putting his hand on my arm before I got out.

"What?"

"The only thing i can think to explain it is...to him? Touching someone like the way he wants to touch you is only something you do to someone you hate. See?"

"I. Yeah. I see."

"No, you don't. Kissing or any kind of...you know. Sex, Bella. It's scary to him right now. It only makes him think of...that. And he doesn't know how to transfer it to a positive. thing"

"Okay..."

"No. It's violence to him. He doesn't see touching someone and kissing someone and anything else as affection. He sees it as brutality." He paused and planted his palms on the steering wheel, his arms straight, like he was trying to push himself away. "I'm trying to say..."

"What?"

Emmett tugged at his tie and flinched, ancient sadness and exhaustion and shell-shock making a brief appearance on his face. I paused, kind of sort of staring at him intensely.

"What the hell did you hear in there?" I asked slowly, sitting back down.

"Hate," he shrugged, then put the car in gear.

I got out in a daze. I don't even know how I made it home with the food.

**Hey, I hope everyone had a good update-free weekend! Gave me a chance to respond to everyone. Thanks for continuing to read this, truly.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen**

Later that night I called him.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

"Hello?" He answered just fine, though.

"Edward. Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?" I asked, just diving right in.

"Fine. Stuffed. Just got back from dinner. What's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see how you are. After today..."

"It's whatever."

"It is?"

"I mean, they say I gotta be there, so I'll go. They want him in prison, so I'll talk, but I don't give a fuck either way." I could hear him shuffling around in the background, and I wondered what he was doing. He'd been eating dinner, like it was just any other day. If it had been me, if I had been in a courtroom talking about... those things, I would be wrecked. I'd be curled up in a ball, whimpering. I'd probably be torn on wanting to see or talk to no one and wanting absolutely everyone possible that I cared about surrounding me, their presence comforting me. Offering to do anything, say anything, just to take away even one iota of the pain that I was in.

But it wasn't me, was it?

"How can you...not? Care, I mean?"

"'Cuz it's over," he said, and it sounded like gum popped in his mouth.

"Oh."

"Or not. After this, there are like, more to be prosecuted. I'm so over it already, you know?"

"I bet," I said with an uneasy laugh. "Um, who else?"

"His girlfriend, Vic."

"Like, because she knew?" I asked.

"Yeah. Conspiracy to whatever, I don't know. Don't really care. There might be his cousin, too. He told him I was his godson."

"He did?" I gasped.

"Yeah."

"And they just believed that?" I asked, thinking of our small town, the flyers, the local news, the national news.

"The guy wanted to believe it. And I didn't correct him."

"Why?"

There was a long pause and he sighed. I heard the glug of a bottle, the swish as it was swirled around or tossed around or hell, chugged around.

"Because you just...don't. I mean. He would've killed me. And I know it's like...it seems like there's no way he would've. Like if I said something, maybe those people would've just turned him in right there." He paused a moment to take a deep breath, and I heard the swish of the bottle but no accompanying chug. "But then you're living it and hanging out with these people and it just...it wasn't always this big torture ring, you know? It always sucked, but it wasn't dungeons and shit the entire time."

"Right."

"Vic knew, though. That bitch," he snorted. "She knew. She's a drunk."

"Really?" I asked, wondering exactly how drunk Edward was at the moment.

"Yeah. She's a nut. Maybe worse than him."

"I...didn't know that," I said.

"It got him off. Having her around me, and you know." I closed my eyes and swallowed down, hard.

"Are you okay telling me this stuff?" I asked, because he didn't want me at the trial and now he spoke so stoically, or maybe like he was discussing the weather or any other normal thing, but there were these tiny threads of hostility stringing each word to the next.

"You called me, Bella. You won't stop. So, if you wanna know...and even if you don't, this is shit you should know if you're gonna hang around."

"Is that what you want?" I asked carefully.

"I want to open my eyes and have it be two years ago." _Me, too, _I thought. But I didn't say that. It didn't seem terribly helpful.

"I can't...give you that."

"I know."

"I just want to know what to do, Edward."

"You keep waiting for me to give you some kind of answer or something, Bella," he rushed, and I had never heard him sound so frustrated with me before. "I don't have answers. I'm more fucked than even you. I want things the way they were before, or maybe I want things to be completely different. I can't go back. I can't go on like I'm me because I don't even know who that asshole with a baseball career _is_ anymore. No clue. So. I mean. You tell me. And you wanna hang around like we're us...but Bella, that ain't me anymore. I can't be that kid again. Even if I wanted it."

"You think I'm the same?" I asked, desperate to keep the quaver out of my voice. "I'm not. When you..." I had to take a deep breath before continuing. "I'm forever different, too."

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Jesus! I don't know! Why are we doing this?"

"I can't let go!"

"I'm already gone! You want someone who isn't here!"

"I'm coming over," I said.

"Bella, just don't-"

"No. This time, if you're leaving, then you're saying goodbye."

"Hey!" I shouted, trudging over in the dark, using the headlights of his father's car as a guide.

Edward was there near the old rotting fence, his bottle of liquor resting beside him, baseball bat in one hand with a big bucket near his feet.

He took a ball from the bucket, tossed it in the air and cracked it with the bat so far out that even in daylight I was sure it'd never be seen again.

"What?" he asked, picking up another ball.

"What?" I breathed. "You showed up the other night at my window and did...that. Then you tell me to forget it, and Edward. If I could forget anything about you, the past two years of my life wouldn't have been hell."

He cracked the ball again before looking at me over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Bella. Tell me how shitty things have been for you these two years. Why don't you go ahead and tell me _all_ about it." His tone was _awful_.

"I didn't mean that!I know you had it worse-"

"You tell me about how you worried... while you were in your own damned bed every night. You tell me about how you couldn't even be happy around your friends- well, do you wanna know what I was doing?"

I took a step back, arms over my chest, rocking myself for some kind of comfort before I exploded.

"If you want to tell me, then yes," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Fuck," he laughed, picking up another ball. "Go home, Bella."

"I want to be here! For you! With you! However you want me to be!" I cried.

He cracked another ball clear off the property and grabbed the bottle behind him.

"I can't be with anyone, okay?" he said, then took a sip from the bottle.

"We can do whatever you want," I said, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, or-"

"You don't get it."

"Yeah, well. You're not explaining it."

He set the bottle back on the post and pointed the bat at me.

"I can't do this with you."

"Edward, don't. Don't say that," I said, clutching at my stomach. "Please. Don't say that...we don't even have to be anything but friends, just please..."

I just stared at him, and then it was there- a faint flicker of anger, of indignant, seething rage- at all of it. At the entire world. I tried my best to tamp it down because I knew the minute I opened my mouth and shouted the feelings roiling up my throat that I might never, ever stop. And he was the one person on the whole fucking planet that least deserved to have my pent-up feelings of the last two years vomited all over his hurting body.

He didn't seem to notice my inner turmoil and continued to speak at me in his terrible, emotionless voice. "I thought I'd come back, eventually. I thought of it a thousand times. I thought I'd come back and it'd be just so easy. And happy. But it's not. I don't even want to be here," he said, a humorless chuckle falling from his mouth before shaking his head. "I can't even stand to be here."

"Where do you want to go?" I asked, just to keep him talking as I swallowed my emotional vomit back down to the pit of my stomach where it belonged.

"I want the hell out of this head and out of this body, but I can't outrun myself, can I?" he asked, a spiteful, angry smile on his face.

"It's just gonna take time," I said weakly. "It's just all so new, Edward. And you've been through so much and-"

"I talked to that lawyer. Hell, there were like twelve of them, right? It's this hotshot team...everyone wants the case because, you know. I'm a fucking celebrity. They want the entire world to know what went on in that house."

I nodded, sniffling and wiping at my eyes.

"And I had to tell him everything, right?" Edward asked, and I hated that he was drunk. I hated that he was being mean, trying to shake something loose in me. But I stayed.

"And you know what?"

"No."

"Toward the end, I was alone all the time."

"What?"

"Yup," he said, picking up another ball. "I mean, I was in that house by myself. Probably the last three months or so, he'd leave me there. All the time."

He said it almost boastful, smug.

"Okay," I said slowly.

"Okay. So they ask why I didn't take off earlier. And say it, Bella. You're thinking the same thing."

"Why?" I said it, I played this game.

"I have no fucking idea. It became home. Hell, but home. After awhile, I just lost the will to leave? Or I wasn't even sure if the world was the same. I wasn't even sure if I'd made all of you up. And he fed me. I played cards with the guy. I laughed with him sometimes."

"Edward," I said. I was confused...and I was exactly what he figured I would be. Not getting it.

"You just get so lost that you don't even know your way around your own mind. And so all these lawyers are looking at me, like...what the fuck? This kid just blew this case. Why the hell didn't you leave? Right?" he asked, grabbing another ball, this time just tossing it out.

"And this psychologist my dad roped in is trying to tell everyone this is normal. That this is how it goes with 'this type of victim.' That it's normal I stuck around there after so much time."

"I've heard it is," I shrugged, and the bat went sailing through the air. He turned to me, his gaze tormented and blurred.

"Does this look fucking normal to you?!" he screamed it, making me jump.

"I don't know, I don't know," I cried, backing up, holding on to myself.

"Jesus. Don't cry. Just go. Please. Just go."

"I can't leave you again," I said, and it was true. I wanted to run like hell...but I couldn't. I just could not make myself move from that spot.

"I don't want to leave you out here like this. Here. In this spot," I said. And we both knew why.

"What's the worst that could happen?" he asked, holding his arms out. "And I used to walk _you_ home to prevent rape."

I blanched at his bluntness, the harshness of all of it.

He sighed and turned around to light a cigarette as I stood there, feeling unwanted but not un-needed. I wanted to light every candle in the world, to drop every breadcrumb to lead this boy back home. And if that wasn't possible, maybe I just wanted to introduce some kind of light in his darkness. Maybe this is how to love someone when they cannot stand to be loved by you, but you can't make yourself stop loving them anyway.

"Mr. Chase finally got shit-canned for growing weed in the greenhouse," I blurted out, not thinking of a damned thing to say that wouldn't cause an issue.

"'Bout time," Edward said, leaning against the rotten fence, looking off into the dark, maybe to see the baseballs he'd lobbed out into the distance.

"Jessica and Mike broke up like, four times, and the third one it was because she thought she was pregnant."

"That idiot," Edward snorted.

"Lauren Mallory actually did get pregnant."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's a boy. Um. Waylon's put a new Reuben sandwich on the menu and they catered your vigil. It was nice."

With a cigarette paused halfway to his lips, he looked at me from the corner of his eye. I shrugged and held my palms up.

Then he started to laugh, softly at first, slow and quiet, but soon, I started laughing with him...and then we were just laughing together. I edged forward so, so slowly, coming to rest next to him on the fence. He was laughing too hard to notice or shrink away from me.

"I'm glad it was nice?" he said helplessly, still laughing.

"You would've liked it. They had baskets of curly fries."

"At my funeral?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"Well. It was like this memorial thing? So people all wanted to be surrounded with your favorite things. Like, uh. curly fries."

"What else?" His face was full of soft amusement, and for one moment, I allowed a pang of longing to choke my throat.

"Everything was all baseball. And I got all pissy about it because, well. You're more than that, you know? Like, oh, Edward. Baseball. I don't know. I hated that."

"Thanks," he said quietly, turning the tip of his cigarette around to watch it burn.

"Yep."

"What did you bring?" he asked, bumping my shoulder with his.

"I didn't bring anything," I said lamely.

"Oh."

"I wore tights."

He was quiet for a second then laughed again, a short, bark of a laugh, shaking his head.

"I missed you, weirdo," he said, then looked down at me while I looked up at the sky.

"You have no idea," I sighed, just as my phone buzzed.

It had to be my parents, probably freaking the hell out.

I took it from my pocket to reveal a text from Jake, accompanied with his picture, in which he was half-ass planking on his kitchen table:

_i'm board. geddit? call me._

I slid my phone back in my pocket, hating that that just happened. Because I hadn't done anything wrong, but it felt like i had? Or it felt like I should've said something before. But when? It was just coming out all wrong.

"That was, uh, Jake. He moved here about-"

"You don't have to," Edward said quickly, putting out his cigarette, smoke billowing from his nose.

"No, no. I want to. I...don't love him."

"Bella. It's fine," he shrugged. "I didn't expect to waltz in here and marry you."

"I know, it's just, I'm saying..." What the hell _was_ I saying?

"You think I was exactly faithful?" he asked.

"Edward," I gasped.

"Come on. Let's call it for what it is. I'm not returning as the virginal baseball hero I was before I left, okay?"

"I know, but it's not-"

"There was Vic, too. He liked alllll kinds of stuff. And I must've too."

"What?" I asked, completely bewildered now.

"I got it up," he shrugged, like it was nothing. "I might have been hating it in my head but my body worked just fine, so what the hell do I even do with that? I don't know. It happened. Okay?"

"Edward, that doesn't mean you weren't...raped? Or...it doesn't mean you wanted it..."

He picked up the bottle and took a large gulp, then smiled at me.

"I have no idea what's okay and what's not. Go on home. Call that guy. I'm gonna be okay."

"I don't want him. I want you."

"No, Bella. You don't. You have no idea what I am anymore. I'm not sure I even do. But trust me...you don't want whatever I've got left. Go. Don't cry, yeah? Just go, call him. Please?"

"No, Edward-"

"I'm crawling outta my skin, here, Bella. I don't want you here. I want to pass time by myself. I'm going to listen to some shrink and I have to repeat a year of school. I have to figure out how the fuck to stop drinking without killing myself. I can't worry about you when everyone else is worried about me."

"But _I_ worry about you." He ignored that one.

"Go. Go be with that guy. I'm someone new. You don't even know me. It's a good thing. Go."

"I can't just-"

"You can," he said with a laugh. "You don't have to deal with any of this, not anymore. So. I'm letting you go."

"I'm not ready to be let go of."

"Silly girl. I'll see ya around, okay?"

I stepped over and cautiously pressed my forehead to his chest, listening for the boy I used to know.

"Goodbye," I whispered and he wrapped his arms around me tightly, to humor me or what, I wasn't sure.

"Bye bye, Baby," he said. I thought I felt the brush of his mouth against my forehead but maybe it was just his hand or my imagination. Then he was stepping away, turning his back on me.

I didn't go home.

I went to that bench with his name and no dates, where I cried and said goodbye all over again, this time certain he was dead.

**You know, I've been telling some of you that this is my favorite chapter, and now that I've read it, I mean... it still is, but damn. What does that even say about me? Sheesh. Hey, thanks for sticking with me!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen**

The trial dragged on and on. They wouldn't shut up about it in the news- daily updates, all kinds of expert testimonials, pictures of the people involved flashing by in an ever-revolving slideshow. I stopped watching at any mention of it, even when they started throwing around the words "death penalty."

Emmett said that there was no _way_ Vouch would get off. Then he stated with smug finality that he wouldn't live too long, not in prison.

I had no idea how I felt about that one, but the thing was this:

Aro stole a boy and murdered him. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but he did.

That boy would never, ever come home.

We would never know what Edward Cullen could have been. His course was cut off, stolen by something wrong and off and sick and evil. Edward's sentence was for life, too.

It was important to remember that even though I might think I saw him around town or at school, that boy was gone. That's what I had to tell myself when we'd pass by each other and give polite smiles or the occasional "hey"s.

We were seniors and graduating soon, but Edward was still technically a junior. I heard from Renee who heard from Esme that he probably wouldn't stay in school for much longer. Whatever that meant, I didn't know. All I do know is that as sublimely beautiful as it was to once again catch glimpses of his profile whenever I rounded certain sections of locker or caught the errant flash of his teeth as he talked to Emmett or Mike or Jasper from across the campus... it was equally devastating. Seeing him there, in a place so familiar as freaking school, it wasn't the same. A year ago, I would have given everything I'd ever had and everything I will ever get to watch Edward hop up onto the lunch table and sprawl out eating the sandwiches Esme packed for him. Well, now I got to see just that, but. Seeing what I'd envisioned and prayed for and hoped for and just demanded to experience left me feeling like someone had stuck their hand in my chest, grabbed a handful of whatever slippery, throbbing gore they could find, and then yanked upward.

At any rate, I wasn't so sure he was ready to come back to school and I totally questioned why he was there, but I had to shrug it off and trust that the adults in his life knew what they were doing.

He went to classes, but never any games. He wore a backpack and kept

to himself in the junior wing unless Emmett or Jasper or Jessica or Mike or Rose would sidle up to him.

It was easy for anyone, much less me, to see he wasn't the same; he was no longer the loud-mouthed star he used to be. Not at all.

That is how time passed; little and big moments along the way, sometimes full of light and hope, sometimes desolate and dark. Sometimes, gray.

I got a thick envelope in the mail, the contents of which congratulated me on my getting off the wait list and accepted to Dartmouth. I stuck it in the bottom of my underwear drawer without a word to anyone. I was undecided on whether it was a moment of light or dark, but the moment like all others passed nonetheless.

**xxxxx**

Close to the end of the last quarter is when high school caught up, as it always does.

See, at first, people were all over Edward, wanting to be close, to make conversation...but he held most of them off, not willing to put forth the effort, and initially, people respected that.

He'd told Emmett he just wanted the hell out. He wanted to get out, leave Forks. To just... go.

I heard his parents were considering moving to Chicago for a fresh start. I don't remember where I heard it, I just did. It's not like anyone ever actually spoke to me about Edward, but I'm sure I heard it somewhere.

I hated that, but wouldn't let myself dwell on it.

I spent the days repeating to myself that he's already gone, he's already gone.

The first time he showed up at school drunk, no one pointed it out, not even faculty.

But things explode. They just do, and it's never in the way you think, like with some big announcement on the loudspeaker and everyone's heads swiveling in unison to look at the big spectacle.

Or maybe that's kind of how it happens. When it's something truly horrible, something _really_ juicy- it happens with wagging tongues in a small town in a high school. Things just ...explode. When so much attention and silent scrutiny is placed on one person in one school, it will eventually turn into negative attention.

It was outside on a rare, sunny day during lunch. Edward was hanging out near the benches on the far left with James Sutherland, a junior who'd had the k-9 unit bark at his locker more than twice. Jess and I sat picking at our lunches and Rose was trying to catch up in the AP bio lab, having skipped the day before.

"I don't know, but if he thinks he can just give his number to that skank at Perfumania and-"

"Jess. You two need to stay away from the mall," I cut in.

"They were having a buy one get one at Hollister," she said, her eyes widening. "Anyway. How's Jacob?" she asked.

"Good. He thinks he's the next big wake boarder."

"Who's the big wake-boarder now?" Jess asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Right? I don't think there even is one. Whatever. He swears it's him," I laughed, thinking of Jake and his ever-huge personality.

"Taking him to prom or what?" Jess asked.

I shrugged. The kids at La Push didn't have a prom, and ours was months away.

Jess had a thing about keeping us all coordinated, though, and wanted details on everyone's dress color.

"You guys should come with me and Mike to Northland. We're going on Saturday-"

"Hell no. I'm not getting on your mall drama train again. Last time, I ended up sitting in front of the center fountain, bored out of my head. And I didn't have enough Mrs. Fields to make it worth my while watching you two bicker," I snorted.

"Ugh. Please? I'm thinking it'll save us from a fight."

"I am not your neutral zone, Jessica."

"You're so unsupportive," she balked. "If I...what. Is that?" she asked, her eyes snapping across the yard. I looked up as I bit into my apple.

Edward was bounding over to near where we were, his eyes focused on Tyler Crowley, class weasel.

Edward was saying something we couldn't make out, but he looked pissed, practically shouting at Tyler. Crowley looked relaxed with a smug smile, but he was backing away slowly.

My pulse started to race as people started to gather and Edward advanced, an audible F-bomb thundering from his mouth.

"What the hell?" Jess whispered under her breath. In the same second we were both on our feet.

Emmett came sailing in from God knows where, doing nothing but standing beside Edward, a cautious look on his face.

"Try it...cocksucker," Tyler said loudly, grabbing a hold of his junk in gesture.

My jaw locked around the bite of apple in my mouth and Jess's face went white beside me.

No one's face looked quite like Edward's.

And Tyler's face would never look the same again, because next thing anyone knew, he was flat on his back from a punch right to the center of his face from a kid who used to have the fastest, strongest pitching arm in the region.

Edward pulled him up by his shirt only to hit him again. Emmett, who'd let him at it, finally broke in.

"You don't know me!" Edward shouted into Tyler's face while Emmett tried in vain to pull him off, but at that point, many others had joined the fracas, including Mr. Victor and Mr. Banner.

Girls shrieked and guys didn't move, watching this schoolyard fight that was anything but typical.

"Let him go, ease up!" Emmett shouted at Edward, putting his arm around his neck.

Edward bucked underneath Emmett's not inconsiderable strength.

"Knock it off!" Emmett shouted, rearing back. He finally managed to pull Edward off, then caught him again when he scrambled toward the limp and still form of Tyler Crowley.

Edward breathed heavily, so intense and upset that he didn't seem to notice that he was still restrained by Emmett while hovering over Tyler. The whole yard was quiet, aside from the sound of an approaching siren. Eventually, Emmett's hold eased and Edward stepped back. He spit on Tyler then let Mr. Victor yank him away.

As it turned out, Tyler had a concussion, a broken cheek bone and a busted nose. He returned to school the following week.

Edward did not.

The Crowleys didn't press charges. Apparently, Edward's lawyer threatened to press a sexual harassment suit against Tyler if they did.

Charlie tapped on my door the day after that fight.

"You okay?"

"Yes?" I uttered, pulling my earbuds out and quirking an eyebrow.

"I just got back from mediating a pretty intense discussion between the Crowleys and the Cullens." His eyebrow mirrored mine, another reminder that I was so much more like my dad than my mother.

"It was Tyler's fault." I know I sounded defensive, and I didn't even care. I figured if there was one time my dad wouldn't mind a little violence, it had to be this one.

"His old man was a jerk-off when I went to school with him," Charlie finally said, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms and ankles.

"Must run in the genes."

"Usually does. It's why you're so charming."

"Dad."

"Bella." He stopped his self-congratulatory laughing and eyed me up and down. A veiled look passed over his face before switching to his standard affable dad countenance. He cleared his throat twice before speaking again. "You okay?"

"Do you think he's getting better?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Do you think he's going to be okay?" Charlie looked down at his feet and shuffled, moving one shoulder and then the other, looking for all the world like he was trying to get comfortable while leaning against a door jamb and getting difficult questions tossed at his head by a daughter who probably wasn't okay and he knew it before asking. He opened his mouth once then closed it fast, looking to the side. I wondered if Mom was standing there, just out of view, but I knew Dad wouldn't do that to me.

Finally, he looked up at me, and the bleakness I saw there, the worry- the glistening heat of a dad trying not to break his daughter's heart just... broke his daughter's heart. When he spoke, he looked like he was choosing his words very, terribly carefully.

"Bell, What I think is that he's got a long road ahead of him, and he's walking it better than most would. I think you have some heavy decisions to make, and I _know_ you'll make them wisely. But right now, I just want to hear if my kid is okay."

"I'm okay, Dad."

And life went on.

**Xxxxx**

After a totally fruitless study session one Friday night, Jess and I went to go grab a basket of fries at Blaine's Diner. She and Mike were back on again and she was wearing his old lacrosse jersey, babbling about having to go to dinner at his grandparents' house.

"I know she can't help that she smells like pee, but I'm like, damn Gramma Newton, I can't eat these lumpy mashed potatoes with your leaky Depends odor lingering in the air," she said, dipping a fry in ketchup.

"I have no idea why you stay in this relationship," I said, shaking my head fondly.

"Well," Jessica said thoughtfully, "She makes really good pie." I put my forehead in my hands and laughed at the absurdity that is her life.

"You guys are so messed up."

"I know, right? I love him."

"There's that," I sighed, toying with the straw in my milkshake. I looked up when Jessica sat up straight against the vinyl booth and held a fry up in the air, her arm straight out and to the side. Mike came bounding up; he grabbed her wrist and took the fry from her hand with his mouth.

I looked over my shoulder to see Em and Edward—with Tanya under his arm—saunter in, vestiges of their laughter rolling down the narrow aisle of the diner toward us.

This—the other side of this fence—was normal now, to a degree. But sometimes, if it caught my attention and my eyes just the right way, it shocked the hell out of me. It was so alternate universe, what a stranger my only love was. How he was with the girl who used to be the stranger to the both of us.

Mike slid in the booth right next to Jess and started in on the fries, pulling her close to him. She got quiet, a soft smile reserved just for Mike on her face. He whispered something to her and that smile grew. It was such a soft, sweet moment that I assume they must have a lot of—something is keeping them going, after all—but at the same time, their moment hurt my heart.

"What's up?" Emmett asked, swiping my shake, discarding the straw and taking a big gulp.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, my eyes only on Emmett.

"Tanya needed the bathroom and Mike needed a blowjob," he said, then grunted when Jessica kicked him from under the table.

"Hey," I said to Edward and Tanya with a slight smile.

"Hey."

That was all he said. Tanya looked bored and Edward looked anywhere but down at the table before he said, "So, we're not gonna stick around. Later."

The two of them walked out together, the whole world unbalanced.

"Is it weird?" Emmett asked me once they were gone.

"What about any of this isn't weird?" I asked with a shrug.

"He meant does it suck so much to see him with her," Jessica clarified.

"Thanks for that," I said with a laugh. "Yeah, it sucks. It fucking blows. But…how many miracles can you expect? I wanted him back. We all wanted him back, and he's back. And…like…it has to be enough," I said, and God. I hoped it sounded like I meant it. I wanted to mean it, anyway.

Emmett put his big bowling ball of a head on my shoulder and stuck a fry in my shake while I tried not to cry.

"Does he ever say anything about me?" I blurted out, because I'm some kind of masochist. Thing was, if Edward would ever say anything personal at all, it would be to Emmett. Emmett went to the trial. Emmett was let right back in Edward's personal world. I had a feeling Emmett knew more, was closer to this than I had ever been.

"Don't ask me that," Emmett laughed, picking his head up.

"Why not?"

"Because even if he does talk about you, and I'm not saying he does, I can't go all gossipy school-girl and tell you about it. Damn, B."

"We're friends, too," I pointed out.

Emmett slid further down the booth and looked at me dead on, the humor suddenly falling away between the two of us.

"Because don't you think he's been fucked over enough? Can't he just have someone to talk to and some privacy? For like, once?"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks heating with shame. "Of course. You're right." I folded my hands in my lap, feeling for the first time like the group asshole.

"I'm glad he's talking to you," I said, and I meant that, it was true. It's just…at first, I assumed I'd be the one he talked to about the heavy stuff, if he did at all.

"Yeah, well, I'm not the only one," Emmett said, stealing my drink again.

"Tanya?" I asked dully.

"No," Emmett said, poking my side. "He goes to therapy at some swanky place in PA like, three times a week."

"He does? Still?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"Well, sure. Of course. That's no secret," Emmett said, shrugging and dipping more fries in my dwindling shake. "He started hardcore after the Crowley beat down. At first, his folks made him, but he doesn't mind so much now. Like, he knows he doesn't want to end up in jail for murder or something. He was pretty pissed, you know?"

"I know."

**xxxxx**

Days later found us wasting time, whiling the hours away until we could be free from school and Forks and on into whatever our futures held.

"Hey! It's a working man!" Mike said, whipping the ball back to Emmett. I looked over my shoulder from short-stop, a position I had no idea how to play but was assured it was okay to "just stand there and don't get hit in the face with the ball."

"And keep on looking adorably confused!" hollered Mike, who kept swinging the bat around wildly, barely missing hitting his own self in the face, the ass, the ankle, the Jess. Jasper was off in the field, chain smoking and oblivious, his phone attached to his ear. I saw him walk further out, with more purpose, farther away.

Edward was walking toward us through the field on the McCarty property, wearing a newer-looking ball cap— I still had the original.

"He got a job?" I asked Mike.

"It's nothing," Edward said, having jogged over. He caught the ball with both hands when Emmett tossed it to him. Mike took off to chase Jessica around the bases and she was shrieking with utter delight; no one paid them any mind. As always.

"You're looking at the new assistant coach for Forks' Little League team," Emmett said, then snapped his glove in the air, indicating Edward to toss the ball back at him, their old patterns seeming gratifyingly normal. Edward lobbed the ball over, a slight smile on his face.

"Really?" I smiled at Edward. "That's great!"

"It's nothing," he said again.

"Yes it is," I insisted. "I think it's-"

"Great?" he asked with an empty smile. "Coaching Little League in Forks? You know, three years ago that would've been a joke. Great is what I _could've_ been, what I was going to be—just," he smiled with obvious patience and sucked in a deep breath, "thank you. I think it will be a good thing."

"I didn't mean to…invalidate, or…"

"Yeah, well. It's fine," he said. He spit over his shoulder and ran out to the makeshift outfield, snatching Mike's discarded bat along the way and leaving me to wonder if I would ever say the right thing to him.

An hour later found me being virtually ignored while having an extensive text session with Rosalie, who had also found a job, at the local Bookworm. Mike and Jessica had disappeared to probably an empty dugout or the backseat of Emmett's truck, just to annoy him. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett were mid-pickle when I absently told them I was headed home. I didn't even think they'd heard me.

"Hey, hold up a sec!" Edward panted as I walked away, my face still in my phone. I looked up, startled. My heart flopped when he jogged up to me, his cheeks flushed from play, the hair at his temples damp with sweat.

"Yeah?" I asked, keys dangling from my fingertips, realizing in that second that my unguarded expression was stupidly hopeful. I may be able to deal with reality, but I was still hopeful.

"Sorry about snapping at you earlier," he offered after looking down into my face, searching for... I don't know what.

"No," I said, waving a hand, "don't be sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Yes, you were. You were thinking of me and being nice and I snapped because of my own shitty issues. Thank you for being encouraging. Sorry I got pissy."

Well, if that wasn't the most formal thing the guy had ever said to me.

"Really, don't apologize." I chuckled uncomfortably because... this was my life now. Uncomfortable laughter whenever he and I tried to be civil to each other.

"I have to. I have to be accountable for crap like that. I have to own my anger."

"No, it's cool, really."

"No. I literally have to. I'm supposed to, according to my shrink, so can you please just accept the apology?"

"Oh. Well. If it helps you out, then fine. I am all acceptance and forgiveness."

"Cool," he said before turning and jogging back out to the field.

I stood there, a part of his therapeutic routine, with an apology he had to issue. He was making an effort to overcome everything life had decided to heap on him and for that, I couldn't be too bitter or too hurt. Especially when I watched the way he ran back out there, willing and moving and breathing. And living. Or trying his damnedest to do so.

Time tripped and tumbled along and with time came the understanding that sometimes life just does not go where you intended, or where you wanted or even where you expected because life just _happens._ Every minute of every day, some _thing_ is there whether you know it or not, whether it's horrifying or great. It changes the course, guiding or pushing or shoving you into who you are supposed to become. Not that we're completely products or victims of circumstance, because of course, there is always the choice of what to do once you land on some monumental decision.

It took a long time to figure out that letting go of what Edward and I had didn't mean he'd slipped through my fingers or that I'd given up. I loved him. I would always love him and truthfully, it was so easy to get bitter and full of rage when I think of how unfair it was. To me, but mostly to him and definitely to us.

We were robbed of whatever would have come naturally. We would never, ever know how we would have turned out, together or individually. I suppose that's true for everyone whose life was touched by Edward. It changed our actions, our perspectives, our future—it changed _us_. I hated when the curiosity crept up, of thinking what might have been—because I'd never, ever know. That path was now closed off, a dead end.

And because life does end up happening, you have to just go with it. There simply isn't a choice. I didn't choose to let him go, back then or now, but it was out of my control. What _was_ in my control, however, was to accept this new path and be grateful that some parts of him survived, whether he belonged to me anymore or not.

I had learned that the things you love and depend on and count as for sure things can be gone in the blink of an eye. Your world can upend and turn into something different and foreign, for better or worse, and so when you are happy, note it. Revel in it. But you cannot dwell forever if things change, if the rug gets pulled from your feet. You can be sad, you can rage and demand justice, but that can't go on forever. The point, I guess, is that you have to learn to love in a moment and push ahead when you must.

And so I did.

Because these moments could turn disastrous again, and I promised little fifteen-year-old Bella and just-sixteen-year-old Edward to never take a second of _okay_ for granted, never again.

I spent time at the beach and behind Emmett's house with my friends. Occasionally Edward would be there, sometimes with Tanya and sometimes without.

I got to see him laugh sometimes and other times, we'd have surface conversations about dumb things like Jessica and Mike or the car my parents helped me buy and it was almost like…the gradual and cordial good-bye we never got. I suppose the ghosts of what we used to be were always lingering, and the cautious tension never fully disappeared, but we forged on anyway, with pasted smiles and a conscious effort not to touch.

The ache of wanting him and loving him hadn't left, but it was morphed into something different, something blunt; a fact of my life: I will always love the boy. I just would not have him. Most days, that was okay. It had to be. You cannot be there for someone if they do not want you at their side.

Emmett was right. Edward had enough choices robbed from him; he didn't need me trying to force my way in if he didn't want me there, for whatever and any reason. I let him decide when to speak to me and where the conversation would go. He, as always, took the lead. And I followed in his wake, toward graduation and the end of life in Forks and the great, unknown beyond.

**Thanks for your continued readingness and reviewosity!**

**eta: lol if you got this first thing with the typo. A university where you study the Sith!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter fifteen**

"Because it's _Evil Dead_, that's why," Jake told me for the fourteenth time, when I asked again why we were standing outside the old ticket booth at the Port Angeles Cinema Shack on the first weekend in June.

"I can find this for you on Netflix. Or anywhere. I think my dad has this movie in the basement somewhere, like on eight track or 8mm or whatever the really old, decrepit films are kept on."

"Bella. It's _Evil Dead_. In a the-a-ter," Jake said, punctuating each syllable with his voice and a finger in the air.

"I guess," I shrugged, but apparently he wasn't alone in his excitement; the sidewalk was packed with people milling around, waiting to buy tickets.

"You just...be patient and nice and I'll buy you popcorn."

"Large," I insisted.

"Large."

"And some M&Ms."

"And those, too," Jake said, craning his neck to see over the throng of horror movie fanatics. I swung my bag near my feet and inched forward with the rest of the crowd, scanning for Jess and Mike, who were supposed to be meeting us.

Instead, my eyes landed on Edward, who was standing to the left, his arm loosely around Tanya Denali.

I gave as good of a smile as I could manage and did this stupid, limp wave before awkwardly not knowing where to put my hand or when to put it down.

"What are you doing?" Jake laughed, grabbing my fingertips.

"I saw someone I know."

"Who, J-Stan and her Wubby?" Jake asked, looking around.

"You're so bizarre," I murmured absently. I kind of wanted to turn my back because I saw that Edward and Tanya were coming over; he had his eyes on the ground and his upper lip in his mouth. Tanya looked bored. Still.

I hated that it had to be so awkward. I hated that my mouth went dry and I had this wonderful, cute funny guy next to me and I just wanted to lift up Edward's arm and crawl underneath it. I hated that in my other life, the one where Aro Vouch didn't exist, that I'd be standing there with Edward and Tanya would be mooning from afar, like she always had been.

I chewed the corner of my lip, trying for unaffected, then I was struck by a sudden, very real threat: I might cry.

It was just all so wrong and so impossible and I felt like a spoiled child. I wanted to stomp my foot and call _do-over! Mine! This is all wrong and no one is helping to fix it!_

But I just widened my smile and looked up.

"Hey," I said. "_Evil Dead_ fans?"

"It's supposedly a classic," Tanya shrugged. "I've never heard of it."

Jake's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, about to unleash the tirade I was subjected to the day before.

"So," I said, clearing my throat to cut him off, not wanting any more conversation with them than was absolutely, politely necessary. "Jake, this is Tanya and Edward...they go to Forks with me. Well, Tanya graduated. This is Jake, you guys."

Jake brought his arm over my head, giving no indication of knowing a thing about Edward.

"Hey," he said, all easy-going manners and bright smile. He shook hands with Edward who gave him a nod and maybe even a muttered greeting. "And hell yeah, it's a classic. I've been waiting for this all _week_."

"I don't really like gore in movies," Tanya said, wrinkling her nose.

"Girl. You are in the wrong place," Jake said, shaking his head ruefully, then he grinned at Edward. "I had no idea _Evil Dead_ was such a turn-off for girls." Edward returned the smile and said nothing, but Jake is like, _impossible_ to make awkward.

"Now that you know, you're not deterred, anyway," I pointed out to Jacob.

"I know. You're a sport," he mocked, chucking me on the arm.

"Well. The plan is to not really watch at all," Tanya said. "_Everyone_ knows that's why guys take girls to scary movies."

"Pssh. I'm spending twelve bucks, and it's _Evil Dead_. I'm watching," Jake said proudly and I just couldn't stop staring at Edward, who was gazing out to the crowd.

"I want to watch it, too," Edward said, speaking up. I looked away.

It was too much. I'd lost him once, then twice. I have accepted all of it, mostly. It sucked that it was no one's fault but Vouch's, and I understood all of that, but sometimes I was really pissed off and sometimes it was crystal clear that I was still in love with the kid, like right all of those sometimes happened, it was like a punch in throat. And you know what?

Sometimes, it's okay not to deal. Sometimes, things are just too much and you just have to separate.

I didn't know if he could tell or not, either of them. I didn't know if they could tell the turmoil going on inside of me.

"Let's go see if the concession stand is open," I said, tugging on Jake's hand.

"Okay," he said easily, sending a wave and a smile over his shoulder while I dragged him away.

"That went well," he noted once we were in a clearing on the sidewalk. "He's quiet. I guess that's about right."

"It's just too weird," I breathed to Jake, determined not to ruin his big night. He pulled me in to hug him, swinging me back and forth playfully, and I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled, even when a tear hit his shirt.

"You're okay," he said into the top of my head. "Nothing a good_ Evil Dead_ viewing can't fix. Am I right?"

"Totally," I snorted, squeezing him tighter. I hung on to Jacob, letting people shuffle past. I caught Edward's eye. He was watching me hanging on to Jacob. Mike and Jess decided to finally show up, and in the chaos of greetings and fist-bumps and ohmygods, I craned my neck around, looking out into the crowd.

I smiled at Edward limply over Jacob's shoulder and Edward held up one hand in greeting again before turning away.

**xxxxx**

"No, the skank that works at Old Navy," Jess said a couple of days later.

"The blonde with the dreads?" Rose asked, confused.

"No, the brunette with the nose stud," Jessica said. "She texted him a picture of it. And her snatch."

"Seriously. Stop going to the mall," Rosalie said.

"All tanks and capris are seventy percent off at American Eagle," Jess said weakly.

"He cheats!" Jasper said, throwing his hands up, finally joining the conversation after sitting silently next to Emmett for ten minutes. "It's what he does! Okay? If you go to the mall, he will give his number out. How are you not getting this? It's fact. Fuck."

"What's your problem?" Jessica balked. She rounded on Jasper and glared at him, looking ready to do murder or fist punches or something.

"Jess. We have this conversation like, once a month," Jasper said, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sick of listening to it."

"Then go over there," Jessica said, waving her hand down the beach.

Jasper sighed and shook his head, kicking up the sand again from his seat on the old washed-up log.

"Dude," Rose said. "What's your deal?"

"I'm just...sick of her expecting different outcomes from the same situation. Other things, really big things changed...and all she does is sit and go over the same shit over and over, I mean. Damn. Do you even realize how stupid you sound?" Jasper said, turning his ire back to Jess.

Jessica looked at him, stunned and hurt, her mouth making a small O.

"Jasper, ease up," I urged, tugging his t-shirt.

"Everything else is so different, how do you not change?" he asked Jess, but his tone was softer now.

"Maybe," Jessica began, her eyes filling with tears, "it's really hard for everyone, Jasper. Maybe a little normalcy and relief is...nice."

"Nice? How is your whining about Newton nice?"

"I think it's nice," Rose said with a shrug. "It's a reminder that...we're all still us." She put her arm around Jessica, whose red face was turned to the ground.

"We're not, though," he said thoughtfully. He gazed out into the clouds and tapped his glass pipe on the log. "One of us is way not the same." Emmett's head shot up at that.

"Of course he won't be the same," I said hotly. "What the hell do you expect?"

Jasper put his hands up and shook his head, frustrated with his own inability to get his words out.

"It's not...I don't know. Maybe it's me."

"What do you mean, maybe it's you?" Rose asked. We were all glaring at Jasper now, and he started to get this panicked look in his eye as he realized maybe he shouldn't have opened his big fucking mouth this time.

"I mean, I can't even like, look at him the same?" Jasper said carefully. There was a moment of tense silence as we considered this, and while I wanted to rail on him, throw things at him, I couldn't. Not if I was being honest. And by the looks on everyone else's faces, I wasn't alone. Emmett still looked pissed and stoic, but he didn't look like he was going to tackle Jasper. I just pressed my lips together, trying not to say anything, because once I started, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. Finally, Jess broke the silent stand-off.

"We'll get back there," she said softly. "It's just gonna take time." Jasper closed his eyes and nodded in agreement. "He's still Edward in there, somewhere."

"I know. And this is gonna sound really, really bad but...come on," Jasper said, then his voice dropped to a whisper, "the things he let that guy do."

"Dude," Emmett said, shaking his head. "He didn't _let_ the guy do shit. He didn't do that because he wanted to!"

"I know that. I get it," Jasper said, "but. I mean, I'd die before I let that shit happen."

"That's because you're a fucking moron," I snapped, rising from my spot and stepping up to him. I could no longer hold it in.

"I knew you wouldn't get it," Jasper said and Emmett stood up fully, his eyes narrowing, his head cocking to the side.

"Then explain it," Emmett said, his voice dark and full of tense, barely-suppressed fury. Jasper must not have noticed, because the idiot kept speaking.

"Just...I mean, I try to have a conversation with him and all I can see or think is...that. And I just don't get how he could let it happen. For like, almost two years. He could've taken off. I would've died trying...and then I'm reading all this shit online about it, and I don't know. It never would've happened to me."

"Oh stop it," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes. "Just shut up. You sound like a fool."

"Maybe," Jasper said, "but I can't not think of it when I see him. It's so messed up just sitting there next to him, knowing that shit."

"Jasper," Emmett said, and I was relieved that he sounded more exasperated than pissed. "It's not even anything to do with, like, sex to him. It'd be like, the same if some guy took a bat to your head, or whatever."

"Fine. But that didn't happen. The other shit did."

"What the hell is the matter with you?" I asked, annoyed with everyone and everything. "Asshole."

"I'm being honest! You asked!" Jasper shouted. "You don't think I don't hate this? I do, okay. I hate it. I hate that I can't think differently, I just can't!"

"You better figure out how, real quick," Emmett told him, pointing a finger.

"You haven't thought of it? You haven't once been sitting there with him thinking of that shit?"

"Not in detail like that, you prick," Emmett said.

"Whatever. Then I guess I'm the bigot or some shit," Jasper said, then picked up his beer and stood.

"You better not say a word to him about that," Emmett told him. "And he's supposed to be here any minute, so knock it off before I knock you off."

"Well, if he asks..." Jasper shrugged.

"Jasper, don't," I blurted out. "That's like, his biggest fear. People thinking like that."

"He should know," Jasper said, wide-eyed. "What do you want me to do, lie to him and say it doesn't bug me? It does!"

"I swear to God, Jasper, you _shit_, if you say something like that to him I'll break your jaw," Emmett said calmly, shaking his head, staring at the sand.

"Oh, piss off, Em. We all have to deal with this. You don't get to tell everyone how to feel. Placating him, lying to him. It isn't _helping_ him," Jasper said.

"The hell I don't," Emmett said, standing, shoving his beer at Rose.

"Emmett, sit down," Rose said tiredly. Jess got up and scrambled in front of Jasper, who dodged out of her way.

Jasper went in first, but Emmett took him down. It was quick, no hate to spur the moment on. Only stress, sadness, misplaced anger and so much confusion.

Just another consequence of this nightmare. Just more proof that it wasn't over, and it might never be.

It would have ended that way had Edward not happened upon the scene, at first sauntering down the beach with his hands shoved in his pockets, his pace accelerating toward the fray.

"Not for me," Edward said to Emmett, patting his chest once before leaning over and extending a hand to Jasper, who was still in the sand. "Don't any of you fight over me."

Jasper got up, holding Edward's hand and glaring at Emmett. I went all quiet, gazing out to the water, exhausted from Edward and Jasper and all of it.

"You're right about some of it," Edward told Jasper. "I'm not the same, but if you wanna know why or how or whatever the hell is bothering you… just ask me, okay? If you can't deal or whatever, it's…whatever. It's cool," Edward said, and I think he looked more exhausted than all of us combined. "But just so all of you know, I'm trying really hard here. I don't want to be the thing that makes anyone fight or cry or- I don't want to be the sore spot in anyone's life. I have this thing—I have _always_ had this thing where I can't stand to disappoint anyone. It's kind of a bigger deal now? So like, yeah. I disappeared and shit happened, and then I turned up and all I am is this big _letdown_-"

"Edward, man, that's not even-" Emmett looked slightly panicked, and Jasper was an odd combination of wariness and extreme shame.

"Don't, Emmett," Edward said, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step back. "I saw what happened. I don't wanna be that thing that makes everything change. I don't want to be that, but I am that. Don't say it's not me. It is. If you wanna help, don't do shit like this. None of you."

Edward looked so alone. Tall and quiet and tired. His hair had start to grow out again, and apparently, a beard was developing, too.

Jasper held his eye and his shoulders sagged.

"Can you gimme a ride home?" he asked Edward.

They were nearly to his car when I just couldn't help myself. Like he'd said before, some things, whether they are relevant anymore or not, need to be clear. I jogged over to the car before Edward could leave. Jasper slouched into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

"What's up?" Edward asked, avoiding eye contact as he walked around to the driver's side. "You need a ride?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um. Yeah."

Edward stood in front of me, swinging his keys, head cocked, but I could feel his nerves, more intense, more taut whenever we happened to be alone.

"Of all of the things I've felt for you or about you, then or now, disappointment was never, ever one of them," I said, speaking low and slow, concise so he wouldn't read into it. So he would believe it. "I won't patronize you and speak for anyone else, but me?" I said, hand on my chest. "You've never let me down."

"Okay," he whispered, the keys now still, his eyes to the sky.

"Okay," I repeated. "That's all. I just wanted you to know." He kept his neck craned, and I watched, mesmerized by the soft glow of street lights in the background and the soft pulsing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed a few times before responding.

"I wish I could be…what everyone is waiting for me to be," he said, at first slow, his words picking up speed as his thoughts solidified. "I'm trying really hard. I am. I'm working on my GED and I…" he trailed off and shook his head then kind of smiled. "God. That sounded stupid."

"No it didn't," I said quickly. And while it didn't sound stupid, it sounded sad. "You seem to have this idea that people want you to be a certain way or thing but, like, you never quite understood that people just like…you. No one is waiting on you to turn into something you're not. You know?"

But then, he'd always felt that way, hadn't he? Turn into a pro ball player. Turn into the town hero. And now. I couldn't imagine how layered and compounded these issues were anymore.

"Jasper hasn't looked me in the eye since," he said, nodding to his car. "And I can't blame him."

"Yeah, well, I can," I scoffed.

He smiled for a second then it faded and he finally looked down at me.

"Sometimes, everything is okay and I deal. And then sometimes I see you, and Bella…" he said, shaking his head, "I swear to God, I really fucking hate that this happened."

"Edward…"

"Tell me one thing?"

"Anything."

"Do you think we would've made it? We'll never know how we would've turned out, but honestly? Do you think we would have?"

That took my breath away. It took my words and my logic, too.

It couldn't be a healthy game to play, for either of us. But I'd be a liar if I said my own mind didn't go there all the time.

"Yes."

"I do too. For all the reasons I hate that motherfucker, that's gotta be in my top five. Because he did this to you, too."

Then he just went back to the car, where he had Jasper waiting.

I don't know what was said or what they hashed out, but I did hear three days later that Jasper and Edward were at the batting cages together.

**xxxxx**

Jake stood on my porch, rocking on his heels.

"Come in," I said, gesturing for him to follow me.

"Nah. Come on out," he said, but there was no teasing in his voice and I just knew. I'd been straddling the future and the past for far longer than I had any right for him to expect.

I slowly let the screen door shut behind me and looked down at my feet with a sad smile.

"You don't have to say it," I said, then gave a watery smile up at him. "I won't make you say it."

"Yeah," he said, then grinned, "but there are things I want to say anyway."

"Are you gonna ream me?"

"Yes. I am here to put your ass on blast," he said, then rolled his eyes before leaning against the spindles of the porch.

"Let's have it."

"If it makes you feel any better," Jake said, "I pretty much knew from the get-go it wouldn't work. I chose to stick around and have the fun anyway."

"You did?" I asked.

"You're not as subtle as you think, genius," he said with that wonderful grin that I had come to depend on. I kind of hated myself at that moment, more than I'd already been. Jake held his hand out to me and I took it quickly, letting him pull me into his hug.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah. We had a good time, right? And we're friends. You're one of my best friends, lady."

"You too," I told him, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I wanted to try, Jake. I really did. And I'm not like, with him. Obviously."

"Yeah, but you know. You're still grieving him. Your mind is always on that kid, and I get it. This shit is complicated. I don't hate you."

"A little, you do."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe a little," he laughed.

I smacked my hands on his back and he held me tighter.

"Some day, something is going to work out for you, Bella."

"You too," I sighed.

"Yeah, some day is next Saturday for me. I scored a date with the redhead at Dairy Queen."

"You did not!" I squawked, stepping back.

"I did," he shrugged sheepishly. "Come on. I'm here, doing the honorable thing and dumping you first. Besides…you were actually in love with someone else this whole time. I'm just trying to get to third base with this girl."

"She's a lucky girl," I said, rolling my eyes and leaning back into him. "Seriously. She _is_ a lucky girl."

**xxxxx**

I went to pick up some take-out to take to Charlie at the station a few days later. Edward was outside, leaning against the brick and having a cigarette while Carlisle and Esme were finishing their meal inside.

"Hey," I said, pausing, not sure of one-on-one protocol.

"Hey," he said with a nod and a smile, so I stopped and shifted the greasy paper bag in my arm and proceeded on my way to the station.

"Hey, Bella. Hold up a sec," he called out. I turned to see him standing there, looking hesitant and eager all at once. I thought I noticed a hint of a flush in his cheeks, but that could have been my stupidly hopeful eyes playing tricks on me.

"What?" I said cautiously.

"What do you mean, what?" he asked with a kind of laugh.

"Well, this is a bit suspicious," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You don't... effort me." His smile slowly faded and he let me have that.

"I'm sorry."

I stood there and he stood there, but he didn't move away or tell me goodbye.

"Did you like that one movie or what?" I asked, for lack of better topics.

"What, _Evil Dead_? Yeah, it was pretty decent," he said. "What about you?"

"I hated it."

"Yeah, I didn't pay much attention to it."

"Oh. Right. Tanya doesn't go to the movies to watch them," I said, rolling my eyes.

"It wasn't her that had me distracted."

"Greasy popcorn fingers?" I squeaked out, my heart a-flutter, wanting to believe that maybe he might be trying to tell me something.

"I still hate popcorn. Not everything changes, you know." His wry smile was the best thing I'd seen in... well, years.

"Yeah, that's still weird," I said, feigning nonchalance. "Who hates popcorn?"

"You put ketchup on noodles. You have zero culinary judgment. Shut up," he said with a small laugh and I did this gasp-laugh-shock thing, because this was happening. This easy-but-not banter that should be nothing but was so everything.

"Beg your pardon, Heinz fixes everything."

He scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, the cigarette burning low there.

"Well. Not everything," I amended quietly.

"It's weird," he said, swallowing and then tossing his cigarette to the curb. "Because time passed and we're all so different but then, at the same time, life kind of didn't pass for me—if that makes sense. I saw you with that guy at the movies, and I- well. He seems good," he said, and I could see that he didn't say whatever it was that he was going to say. He hummed before asking, "Is he good to you?"

I nodded, my mouth hanging open and my eyes blinking, nodding that yes, Jake was good to me, in a complete and shocked and surreal daze that we were actually going there, to that topic of conversation.

"That's good. Em says he's all right. I'm glad you have that."

"Thank you? But, I-"

"Can I tell you something and not have any kind of weight or expectation behind it? Just because I want to say it to someone, other than my therapist?" he blurted out, his words so rushed I was nodding before I even considered the question.

"I know we don't really know each other anymore. We aren't the stupid kids we used to be. That was a whole different world, and I know that. But, like- I can't remember if I ever told you then…and I case I didn't? I loved you. You know?"

"You did?" I whispered, and I don't know. I don't know what happened to my head and my heart, but it was somewhere between elation and devastation.

"I did," he said, nodding, staring out ahead. "I just—obviously, things ended…abruptly. But I feel like that needed to be clear? The whole world is different now, but... that happened. And I'm kind of learning that I need to acknowledge things and say them when they're important. You were such a good thing, Bella, such a good thing. I don't want to never acknowledge that, because it was probably the most important good thing in my life and lately? I'm getting really good at counting the good things. You and me were a great thing. So."

I could say nothing.

Well.

Nothing except for,

"I loved you, too."

**Hey, I just want to clarify something that's been floating around: **

**this fic is not going to be much longer. I know I initially said between 25-30 chapters maybe, but it's shorter than that. I streamlined a lotta stuff, made the writing tighter. Er, at least I think so. Thanks for reading and reviewing, I'm still enjoying what you guys have to say, anon or not. See you tomorrow!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Edward called on a Thursday night at 12:47 a.m. I was sleeping, but I answered. I sat up straight, the phone pressed tightly to my ear.

"Are you okay?" I practically shouted into the dark, my heart pounding while I fumbled for the light switch.

"Do you have my hat?"

"Edward?"

"Sorry, I know it's late." His voice had this gruff grit to it, and I wasn't sure if it was the cigarettes or the lateness of the hour or what making him sound so... urgent. "I don't sleep so well. But I've been ripping my room apart and I can't find my hat. The one with the initials burned on the brim?"

"I have it," I said, resting back against my pillows. I had to brush the hair from my eyes so I could think clearly. "Do you want it?"

"No, I'm just trying to…I don't know. Put things in order. Back together. Or just…I have no idea what the hell happened to my old Nikes, either. Do you have those?"

"No? But your mom didn't throw anything away," I offered. The normalcy of this phone call made me exhale with relief. I heard rustling and a few thumps, and in my sleepy haze, it occurred to me I was just here. On the phone. With Edward. "Emmett threw your regional win ball thing on your birthday, though, in case you're looking for that, too."

"That fucker," he said under his breath, then kind of laughed. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Umm, because it was symbolic and cathartic at the time?"

"You were there?" he asked, and it was silent on both ends for a moment.

"Yeah. Your birthday, you know? Emmett and I were together that day."

"I was watching _Robocop_," he blurted out.

"What?"

"On my birthday, I watched _Robocop_. It was on TV." It was quiet while I thought of that, thought back on that day, and now I knew. I knew what he was doing the moment I was thinking of him. I don't know if what I was feeling now was relief or renewed pain mixed with guilt and regret and that awful fucking hindsight.

"When I found out that it was him…Edward. I am so sorry. I am so-"

"Bella, that is- you can't do that. _I _can't do that. I mean, it happened, and for a long time I went over how I could have or should have and all of that, but…what the fuck is that going to get any of us?" I chewed on my lip before replying, my response slow and thoughtful.

"I know that logically. But we saw him that day and that motherfucker _knew_. We went on and had such a day…we laughed about him, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember all of it," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Look, I don't want to think of him right now. I do that all damned day in therapy. So."

"Okay."

"I can't believe you two lost my fucking ball," he said weakly, but not without humor.

"I'm sorry." My laughter was easy, because this part was always easy. Light jokes at the other's expense. That I could handle.

"In the grand scheme of shit I lost, it's no big deal," he sighed. "I just ripped everything out of my closet. I have to start…putting it all back together, and that will take awhile," he said, and he sounded weighed down, tired. I wondered if there was more than just the obvious meaning to his words.

"Can I ask you something?" I said in a rush, before I could take the time to regret the line of thinking. "And just like the other day, when you spoke, no weight or expectations behind it?"

He was quiet for a second.

"I don't want to get into anything about the time I was away. Not right now. It's late, and I-"

"Not that."

"Okay."

"Why Tanya? Strictly out of curiosity."

"Bella Swan. What do you do to me?" he breathed out. "In some ways, you're the easiest person to talk to, but in other ways... you're the most difficult."

"I don't mean to make you-"

"It's not you. Nothing you do. Just who we were," he said. His voice was whispers and grit, quiet thoughts and maybe yearning. I breathed it in and listened. "But that's not what you asked. So. Tanya. The short of it is- she has no idea who I was before. She has absolutely no expectations of Edward being Edward. I didn't have to try to be who I was when she's around."

"You don't have to do that with me, either," I said, not in a pathetic grasp, but just so he'd know.

"Right," he breathed. "But what if you don't like who I am now?" The words hung there, full of fear and doubt and so sad I had to catch my breath.

"Edward. How can you even think that?" I asked, my heart turning into this big bruise for him, because of what he said and how he said it. So unsure, as if I could ever just not like him. So unsure of who he is now.

"Don't say anything you don't know for sure. Because your opinion of me matters like. The most. I just…need you and me to be a thing that was good,always. You know? And I need you to only know, _really know,_ that guy. The guy I was before all of this- because remember?"

"Remember what?" I whispered, my lips barely moving.

"I was the best," he whispered, and I swear to God, his voice cracked the moment my heart did. "And you deserve the best, B."

"Please," I said, and my face crumpled, along with my body, until my forehead found my bent knees. I listened to him breathing on the other end. "Please don't say that."

Those words- our old joke- and the fact that it now had this new meaning, this terrible, untrue ring to it for him made me want to shout in his face, to wake up, to see it was never about Best, but Best For Me. Even if it were, he was _still_ best.

"Listen for a second and don't try to disagree or whatever, okay?"

"Okay." I readjusted myself on my pillow, ready for whatever he had to tell me.

"For a long time, I looked at my face and I hated it. I thought of my talent- this fucking arm- and I hated it. I _am_ what he was after. I, me physically, am the cause of this. And so, baby, it's been real hard to even live in this body. My own body was—is—I don't even know—foreign. Hurts in ways and places that…pffff. I look down at myself sometimes and it's like, not even me. It's this thing that caused hell and certain actual _parts_ of me I have to carry forever. Some days that's okay and some days, I think of things that happened and I just. I don't expect you or anyone to _not _see that. I mean, I get what Jasper's issue was-"

"Edward-"

"Seriously, stop. I know this all sounds illogical. I _know_ that. I'm working on that. It's getting better, it is. But how was I supposed to go to the best person I knew, the _one person_ I held in the highest regard…and let her see me the way _I _saw me? The thing is, out of everyone, you knew me best. You knew me beyond baseball and smart ass remarks and the reckless driver…you knew _me._" He took a deep breath and said, "So you'll see the differences clearer than anyone else, too. And I didn't want you to. It's more than just me, Bell. How could I do that to you? I didn't want this great, dumb thing we had to be ruined for you, and I didn't want to lay all this really shitty baggage on you. You were dealt enough."

"But you shut me out," I said, and this ire and kind of blueness was in my voice. "I don't want to say you had no right to do that—I _get_ that you had to deal and had to have…well. All the rights you wanted. But Edward, no one missed you like I did. I know your parents—you know what I mean. I know Emmett missed you, but not like I did. Not in the way I did. Not in the way my whole future and present disappeared when you left and Emmett got let right back in. And I'm glad. I'm glad you had him. But I didn't get why him and _not me_."

"It could have been him."

"What?"

"It wasn't necessarily going to be me. I mean, I was his first fucking choice but really, it was just—a toss of the fucking dice. I think if Em made it there first, it would've been him. Vouch had said…I just know that. Okay?"

"Does Emmett know that?" I whispered, my mind reeling.

"Yup. Came out at the trial."

And instantly—Emmett's defense of Edward, the way he hit Jasper for saying what he did, his understanding, his loyalty—everything made absolute sense. Emmett could have been Edward, and he knew it. Emmett was reacting on his own behalf as much as he was Edward's. And he must've felt the heaviest burden of…everything for that.

Edward had taken the fall for the team. In the worst way possible.

"I don't really want to get into that right now. But. That's why."

"I didn't know that."

"You couldn't have. And that's Em's deal. So."

"I'm not going to disagree with your feelings or whatever, but can I speak mine?"

"Yeah."

I took a breath and it occurred to me that the only person I wanted to talk to about any of this, even when I couldn't, was Edward. And here he was. Listening.

"I know that what happened changed you. I know it because it changed me, too. But I hope you see that it doesn't make you ugly or unwanted or any less of how great you were. I see you, and I still see the best."

"I feel different, though," he whispered. "In some ways. Hey? Tell me about it?"

"About what?"

"You. While I was gone."

For so long, I was afraid of seeming or acting or thinking selfishly, of making any of this nightmare about me. I took care that the focus was on Edward, as it should be. But that didn't mean I wasn't hurt or struggling or fucked over, too. The ironic part was, he seemed to be the only one to see that.

"It was really bad," I said, my voice cracking, but then it all came out. I told him about those nights of painful desperation, of knowing he must be out there, somewhere, but not being able to see his face or hear his voice. I told him about afternoons spent lying on his bed and minutes spent in the shower, crying until my knees gave out. About time I spent with his mother and time spent fantasizing about his return and of school dances where I wandered alone. I told him about the sharp but blunt facts of just missing him and all the while, he listened. He listened to every sad and desolate and aching feeling or thought I'd had while he was gone. He listened when I just had to stop and cry for all of it again. And I couldn't be sure, but I think he cried a little bit for it, too.

"I hate that knowing me did this to you," he said.

"Edward, no. Don't blame-"

"At the same time," he continued, "I'm sorry, but I can't regret it. I thought of you, mostly at night."

"You did?"

"Yeah. At first, I thought about you and everyone all the time, like this desperate panic to get home? After awhile, I'd only let myself think of you at night. I didn't want to… I didn't want for any part of you to be tied up with all of that. I couldn't think of you when I heard his voice or saw his fucking face—and I would like, look forward to night, to going to bed so I could just…remember. Make shit up in my head. Love you, I guess."

"I did that, too." He blew out a breath and I stopped and listened to his breathing. It's kind of stupid, how important hearing him breathe had become to me.

"Well. Anyway. To be honest, I don't like the Tanya thing, but I guess I get it."

"Hah. At least one of us does," he said with a tired laugh.

"What? Things cooling off?"

"They were never that hot."

"What?" I asked.

"I don't have sex. Or anything close to it," he said, and it sounded like a line he was pretty used to saying. I guess it made sense, but it shocked the hell out of me. "And she doesn't really go for that. So."

"You don't?"

"No," he said, kind of dragging out the word. Possibly teasing me. "She just…doesn't say much and so I didn't have to, either. It got me out of the house and I could be quiet with no one worried or looking at me like I'm not me. And then she wanted to, you know. Progress, which is fair and normal, but I'm neither of those these days. I haven't even taken my shirt off in front of…well. Anyone since the day Jasper and Emmett fucked up my hair. Listen. I'm gonna go, okay? I just destroyed my whole…everything trying to look for stuff. I've got a big fucking mess to clean up."

"Okay," I whispered. It was quiet save for a couple of thumps and some rustling in the background.

"Huh," he uttered, kind of distracted.

"What?" I asked, sniffling and running a hand under my nose.

"I found one of the shoes."

**xxxxx**

I called him the next night at practically the same time he'd called me. I had a flashlight in one hand and my phone, shaking, in the other.

"Bella?" he answered.

"Yeah, hello," I said, trying to shake off the nerves that were choking me.

"Hi?"

"Forever ago, you told me you'd follow me anywhere."

"Forever ago was—forever ago," he said with a small laugh.

"I'm holding you to it anyway," I said, trying for sass or moxie, hoping like hell I wasn't pushing him in a way that I should not.

"Well. Why the hell not?" he asked.

"Seriously?"

"Sure. I got shit else to do. Where am I following you?"

"Well."

Less than twenty minutes later found us standing in the middle of the field, hoods up, my flashlight the only beam of awake for miles.

"You okay?" I asked him as he gazed out at the field, his eyes guarded and dark. I almost called it off.

He nodded and jammed his fists in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. "I'm good."

I handed him an extra flashlight, one of Charlie's ancient, silver Mag-Lites that are heavier than shit that I pilfered ages ago. I swung my own identical light in wide arcs, the grass in the field seeming gray or maybe colorless in the rapid flashes of the dim beam.

"Are we telling ghost stories?" he said, turning his light on and pointing it upward at his face.

"No. We're looking for your ball." His face fell and he kind of shook his head before taking a step back.

"Forget it."

"I think if we just look in the general vicinity, I mean, no one goes back that far in the woods-" He cut me off with a baleful look and I closed my eyes, taking a deep, fortifying breath.

"I didn't even think…"

"It's okay," he said. "I like that you didn't think of it. But there is just no way to find that thing. It's been through seasons and fucking…wolves or whatever," he said, turning away from me. "Come on."

"No," I said, my feet planted in the muddy ground.

"I'm not leaving you out here alone."

"Good. Then you might as well help me look," I said, taking off in the other direction.

"Bella! This is pointless and I want to go back-"

I stopped and took a breath, really aware that I might be about to manipulate him in the worst way…but then. Greater good and all that. And really, I spent a long time not acting selfishly. So.

"You shut me out," I shouted, my voice echoing off the trees, the stars, and his ears. "I hurt, too! I am in this, too! I have cried and hurt and I lost _me_ for you—then but even now, too! Still! I am tripping over you and not over it, not by a long shot. I have been patient and quiet and selfless, and I saw you with _her._ I saw you smiling at everyone else but _you_ chose _not_ me when I give and give up everything, and I do it with a fucking smile!" I went on, raving with shouts and angry tears, my finger pointed right at him. "And I have made myself okay with that for _you!_ I let you—I gave you your time and don't get me wrong, I'd do it all again—I would do _any_thing for you. It is so all about you all the damned time, so please. Do this for me. You…you. You _owe_ me."

I could not believe the look on his shadowed, moonlit face when he pointed the flashlight back at me. Shock and anger and disbelief, the vein crawling up his neck looking ready to burst and for a second, I knew it was too much. I thought he might cry. I thought I may have just pushed him right back into regression or at the very least, into a strong hatred for me.

"I _owe_ you?" he asked quietly, eyes narrowing.

"Yes," I said, not too sure, but I couldn't flounder now, so I held my chin up and crossed my arms, blinking the tears back.

"I owe you," he repeated, shining that light right at my face. "I cannot believe you just said that to me. Did you grow big brass balls while I was away?"

"No. I always had those," I sniffed. He laughed, a short, bark of a noise.

"_I owe you," _he repeated , shaking his head, spitting the words. "What are you gonna do, Bella? Hate me for it? Hate me for letting it happen to me? To you? I _promise_ you," he sneered, his mouth curled, his eyes red with tears, "I hate myself enough for the both of us."

"I know you didn't let it happen!" I shouted back. "I know that, you giant, misunderstanding a-hole! I don't hate you. I don't blame you for what happened—to me or to you. I never have, and I could never _hate _you!"

"This is—this is exactly why I stayed away from you. Do you see that now? I didn't want you to think of me in this way. I can't _stand_ to have you to think of me this way!"

"My anger with you right now has nothing to do with then and everything to do with the fact that you're currently acting stubborn, which, newsflash, is exactly how you were before!" And with that last shouted invective, we stared at each other, pointing beams of light in each other's faces, our breathing hard, my throat raw and his eyes wet.

"You're mad at me for being the same?" he finally asked. His mouth kind of ticked up on one side.

"You're being ridiculous. If that's not par for the course, then I don't know what is."

"You are the first person to speak to me that way. Since. Other than my shrink," he said with a bit of wonder, then he shook his head.

"You need to be held accountable. You said so yourself. It's this way," I said, then turned to walk again, my insides melting with relief when I heard him follow.

"That was…weirdly, really good," he said behind me.

"What?" I asked, because I was still pissed about it.

"To be taken seriously enough or stable enough to be yelled at," he said. We walked about twenty yards before I spoke again.

"I didn't mean you _owe_ me," I said. "I meant more…."

"I know what you meant," he said.

"Okay."

We walked again, twigs snapping under our feet, the rustle of leaves and a not entirely bad tension between us.

"Why are we doing this? I don't really care about the ball. It's gone. Some things I won't get back. It's fine."

"And some things you will if you just look."

"Bella-"

"It's important. To me. Okay?"

"You realize if we find this ball, it's going to be destroyed and all fucked up," he said. "And we're never going to find it."

"Yeah well. I've been told that before," I muttered. From the corner of my eye I saw his beam of light go still for a moment before he sighed.

"You think it's this way?" he finally asked.

Onward we went, sometimes side by side, sometimes veering apart, but never too far from the other.

"If my mom wakes up, she's going to die if I'm not there," he said after some time. A long time.

"I know," I sighed, near giving up. "I know."

"Look, it's okay," he said. "I gotta get back, Bella. I can't just not be there. My mom is…pfff. She forgets that I'm a legal adult. Which I get," he said, then turned his light on me and kind of smiled. "But I gotta get the fuck outta here."

"What?" I asked.

"I understand she's worried all the time. Obviously. But she's going to just hover over me like I'm ten years old, and I get her need to do that. I do. At the same time…I'd like to be an adult someday," he laughed.

"Where?" I rasped out. "Where are you going?"

"Oh shit. I don't know. I have no plans. Just. It's coming. I can feel it. I can't stay here. You know? I can't stay here."

"Yeah," I said, then turned the beam away from him pretending to scan the woods.

"I'm going to Chicago next week, though."

"You are?"

"Yeah. My grandparents… Gramps can't travel, and they've been wanting to…I don't know. Feed me cookies. I'm going for a weekend with my parents. They say it's for them, but. Between you and me?" he said, then I turned and he leaned forward and made a show of mock whispering, "I think they want to get me out on a supervised trip."

I blinked back at him. He looked like a grown up man, hood up, a shadow of a beard showing, eyes tired from seeing far, far too much. And here he was, being regarded like an invalid child. It had to be so damned hard. To be him.

"Will they pack you juice and goldfish crackers for the trip?" I asked, and it sounded so serious and grave, because I meant to say something serious and grave. But I don't know. It was him and it was me and that's what came out.

The thing about change is it happens. People and circumstances and hell and miracles happen, and you just change. Courses and thoughts and ideals and plans—but. We were still fundamentally us. These foundations do not change because you cannot rewrite history. When you least expect it to? That part that is the core of you just pokes through.

"You're still an asshole."

"Yes," I confirmed with a nod.

"I'm glad that hasn't changed. And it'll be animal crackers and milk."

"Yum," I sighed. "We can go back."

"For what it's worth, I appreciate the effort," he said.

"Edward. No you do not. You thought it was a shitty idea from the get-go."

"It _was_ a shitty idea," he confirmed, lifting a hanging branch out of his way, then holding it up for me.

"Go back to humoring me."

"Do I _owe _that to you?" he scoffed. "Because if I _owe _you-"

"I didn't mean it that way!"

"I know. But I think I missed giving you shit."

"Oh, good. That part remains unscathed. That's great, that's just-" Before I could finish my fake tirade, I tripped and yelped, reaching for the back of his shirt on my way down. He jerked at the sudden touch, dodging my grabbing hands. He swore loudly and turned fast, trying to grab for me on my way down, but it was too late. I landed on my palms and knees, my Cop light tumbling and rolling away.

"Shit! Bell, I'm so…" He squatted down in front of me, and I saw that his eyes had gone from the easy way we had to a kind of startled, wild look. "I'm sorry. I—you grabbed and I'm not—my nerves are still kind of shot," he finished quietly. It was plain to see.

It was plain to see that while his confidence was coming back, his fun and his easiness was still there, just blanketed and so easily overtaken- by anxiety, by insecurity, and by a marked uneasiness that could surface at any time. It was getting better, but still far from over. And it might never be.

"It's okay," I said, wincing as I rose to my knees and rubbed my palms onto my thighs. "I fall all the time, you know that. I've got callouses and man hands..." I trailed off, all attempt at jokes falling flat. He said nothing. His eyebrows furrowed as he slowly reached for my hands and I held them, palm up.

"Dammit," he whispered, squinting at the dirt and muck. "I'm _sorry._"

"You don't have to—I'm fine," I said with a smile, reaching for my flashlight before he made contact because it seemed like he really was hesitating with it, like his heart was still pounding, his face flushed.

"Okay," he said nodding, then repeating in a whisper, "okay."

"Ugh, this mud—what?" I asked, seeing his widening eyes, staring just past me, his own beam of light over my shoulder. "Oh God, is it a wolf?"

He didn't answer, but that quick arm came over my shoulder and he hovered over me for a second before sitting back, then scrambling for the flashlight to our left.

In his hand, between us, was that ball.

"Holy shit," he breathed. I looked to his face, then back down to the ball.

His fingers started to slowly peel back muck, leaves, mud, slime and even some moss. He patiently and carefully worked away all the damage that had been done. Then I joined in, my movements much quicker and rushing his slow hand.

It was destroyed. By animals that lurk in the sun and in the dark, by harsh and cruel elements…but it was there. After we cleaned it as best we could, it was still fucked up, but it was easy to see it was still the same ball, still right there underneath all of that damage and destruction.

"This is crazy," he murmured. He smiled up at me, his head tilted to the side, his eyes so _happy._ Then his brows drew together and he shook his head. "Thank you. I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted it. Thank you for…"

"I'm only going to admit now that I really didn't think we'd find it," I said with a rushed, relieved laugh.

"And I thought we might," he said hopping up and brushing off his hands.

"You did not," I laughed, getting to my feet.

"Sure I did," he said with real confidence. He tossed the ball up and caught it quickly with one hand, still beaming from our find. "I just thought it'd take longer."

"Really?" I asked, taking the ball from him.

"Gotta have faith, B," he said. He pulled his hood up and wandered ahead of me. I watched him mosey along, a stupid smile on my face.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter seventeen**

I felt great after our shouty, tearful, cleansing sharing and discovery night.

I felt like we'd made some kind of progress, but then he hadn't called the next day like I foolishly expected him to do. I was very close to blowing up on him again, but what would I say?

_You didn't call me? _

Then two days after the retrieval of the regional ball, there was a hearing for the sentencing of Aro Vouch. Whether he would be found guilty or not was never really a question. Of course he was guilty. It was a matter of whether was he was found insane or not.

They ruled not—for which I was glad, obviously. But still. What kind of a sane person could do what he had done?

He ended up with back-to-back life sentences with no possibility of parole.

I thought it was good news, but as I was learning with Edward and the entire thing, nothing is ever black and white, or easy.

So, when I hadn't heard from Edward the Friday morning he was supposed to leave for Chicago, I went to his house, just to say goodbye and wish him a safe trip, and because I had to know exactly what kind of ground we were on now. Friendly? Hopeful? Frank? Same as ever? I'd spent so long not knowing so many things that I knew I had to step up if I didn't want to be the girl in the dark anymore. And I did not.

Esme let me in at the kitchen door with a tired smile and a warm hug.

"I don't know what the deal is with that ball," she said after our greeting, "but thank you for finding it. He was oddly thrilled about it."

"I was too," I said, stepping into the kitchen with her, where suitcases were loaded on the waxed floor and three cups of coffee in travel mugs were on the table.

"We've got about twenty minutes before we go," Esme said, rifling through the fridge, "but today is not a good day." Her eyes swung up to the second floor and I paused, my keys in my hand, wondering if that meant "leave him alone."

"What happened?" I asked cautiously.

"There are good days and bad days," she said, picking a grape from its stem. She rubbed it between her fingers and regarded it carefully before continuing. "But today. Vouch was sentenced yesterday, I'm sure you heard. What you didn't hear was Vouch's niece asking the court for mercy, and you didn't hear Vouch make a statement. An apology. To Edward."

"He did not," I breathed.

Esme's lips went to a straight, white line and she slammed the fridge door shut.

"I just don't know how many times that evil son of a bitch is going to hurt my son."

I had no answer to give because the terrible truth was that I just didn't know. I couldn't count all of the ways that Aro Vouch had hurt Edward, inside and out. I couldn't fathom the progression and the setbacks and the good days and the bad. I only knew both would come.

Edward came into the kitchen at that moment in socked feet, his damp hair neatly combed and a duffle bag over his shoulder, which he promptly dropped next to the other bags.

"Hey," he said, then sniffed once before pulling his ballcap from his back pocket. He pulled it down hard over his red, puffy eyes.

"Hi. I just wanted to say have a…be safe in Chicago," I said.

"Thanks," he replied curtly, wandering over to the cabinets and reaching for a glass.

"I've got last minute things to pack," Esme said. She touched his shoulder as she left, then mine when she swept past.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, his voice quiet with that plugged-up quality to it, the after-cry nasal and breathless thing.

"I'm okay," I said. "Are you?"

"Pffff," he said by way of reply. He gulped down the entire glass of water, then plunked it on the counter.

"Your mom said his, uh. Statement was to you."

"Statement." His chuckle was dry and without humor. "The guy tried to apologize, so I walked out. His niece, though. She asked for mercy. Mercy from the court," he said, and this time his laughter was almost genuine. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I asked him for mercy. I fucking begged," he said, a mean smile on his face. "I didn't get any."

"He won't either."

"It's weird to be the kind of person who like. Is okay with seeing someone else rot."

"He's not just any person," I hedged softly.

"That girl—the niece? I'd never met her when I was there. She had no idea any of this happened, but there she was, going on and on about how he was so great but just really sick and remorseful and wanted help-and I wanted to choke her. But then, at the same time…I almost felt bad for her. It's so—this whole thing? It's just so _motherfucking _difficult. Can you imagine wanting to choke someone and feel bad for them at the same time? I don't know what the hell to feel about that, so I feel everything. And that makes me…a…I-"

"What?" I whispered. "You're what?"

"I am a mood swinging bitch lately," he said. "I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm really fucking pissed and then sometimes, I'm all of it at the same time. And that—I even drive _myself _crazy with all that. I am the high maintenance, moody bitch that like, husbands complain about," he said with a small smile.

"You are not," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, I am. And now I have to go smile at my grandma."

"You can text me if you want."

He put both hands on the counter then turned his head to look at me from under the brim of his hat. His height seemed overwhelming just then, I don't know why. Maybe it was the way he was staring, because _all_ of him was going to say something that would cause hurt or hope.

"What are you doing here?" he asked calmly.

Point blank. Stark. Honest. Because he needed an honest answer.

"Being a friend? You've been talking to me and I just thought if you needed someone to talk to…I'd be there."

He picked up the glass and refilled it, taking another sip before walking over and handing it to me.

"The thing," he started, then closed his eyes, looking for the right words before starting over. "The thing is I don't know if I have lingering feelings for the past, or if they're starting all over in the present, or if they never even went away. I think it's all of it," he said, and I nearly dropped the glass of water. "The problem is none of this coincides with the rest of me. I am so…I go from day to day, not knowing how I'm going to feel from one minute to the next. You don't want to do that with me. Trust me."

"Don't tell me what I do and do not want, Edward."

"Fine," he snapped. "Look. It's been a rough couple of days. I'm not supposed to even be entertaining the idea of…you. It'd just add one more thing to be fucked over about. But you keep on being this idea anyway, so I'm fucked either way, right? So, screw it. Let's be honest. You and me could not be friends."

"Yes we could. I just want to sit next to you," I said with a shrug. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"No, we couldn't just be friends," he said with a dry laugh. "Not then, not now, not ever. In my head? I feel for you in ways that I can't even think about acting on. To feel this way inside but disgusted by feeling that way outwardly? That's really confusing and weird. And where does that leave you? Friendzoned? You can't do that, and I wouldn't ask you to. Hell, I wouldn't do that to me, either. Bella, you are the easiest person for me and at the same time, the most difficult. I _want_ to be with you in all the ways I _cannot_ be with you and sooner or later, you're going to need more and what if I'm not ready? Where does that leave me? Dumped? I can't deal with that. So being friends? Doing this? Is just going to make both of us crazy. I don't want to be your _friend_."

"Are you still in love with me?" I asked, and my heart was like, bouncing and my face was red and I was gaping at him, my eyes wide, slack lips dangling.

"That doesn't even matter," he laughed. "Did you not hear everything I just said?"

No.

I'd heard what he did not say.

"It matters to me."

"I've got to go," he said suddenly, and then tried to actually shuffle me to the door.

"I'll wait," I blurted out, just as he swung the door open. He had one hand resting on the doorjamb with me trapped under the arc he was making.

"_What?"_ he asked, eyes narrowing.

"I don't care how long. I'll wait. I don't care if it takes 'til we're sixty. I'm waiting. This is what you _do_. You wait for things like this because they only come along once. And me? I get to possibly have it twice. I'm not looking this gift horse in the mouth."

"I don't want you to _wait,_" he said, kind of mean and definitely sneering. "He doesn't get to take one more fucking second from you. It's bad enough where I'm at. You're not waiting. You're going to school and then you're going to—I don't know what the hell you're doing. But you're not waiting. Not for this mess. Not for something that is never going to be a hundred percent."

"Yes. I am."

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" he asked, and he looked disgusted with me. His face was pinched, distaste and incredulity written all over it.

But if he loved me and I loved him…I could wait.

"Loud and clear."

"Get out."

"What?"

"You're not doing this. Not to yourself. and you're definitely not putting that kind of pressure on me. Get out."

"You lived through a lot, but keep in mind- so did I," I told him in my most reassuring tone. "You are underestimating me. It's a mistake."

"Go," he said, and I think he might have tried to shove me a little bit, with a nudge on the shoulder.

"You're going to push me out?" I asked. "I'm going. But remember something in Chicago."

"What?" he asked, not-too-curious but pretty annoyed-sounding.

"Gotta have faith, E."

I swear, I saw him smile before he slammed the door.

And I smiled once in my car.

Because this was just the way it was going to be. One step forward and five steps back. But. It was a possibility, after all. And for that, I smiled.

**xxxxx**

I watched a seamstress stick pins all over Rose's pink dress while she stared in the mirror.

"Is it too pink?" she asked for the seventh time.

"No. It's a pink dress," I shrugged.

"I know that. But is it _too_ pink?"

"It's solid pink," I decided. "Why, is an all pink dress too much?" I asked, looking up from my phone, kind of still waiting on a text that never came.

"You don't get it," she huffed. "We need Jess."

"She's stalking that girl at the Pretzel Palace," I said.

"Oh my God."

"I'll find her," I sighed, tossing my phone back in my bag. Edward had left for Chicago and must've been back for at least a week, and I'd texted once, but he never responded. Which was fine. I said I could wait and I was going to prove it.

"And see if your dress is ready for pick up!" Rose called while I waved at her over my head.

I dug in my bag for the receipt for my freshly altered dress, figuring I'd scoop it up before trying to declaw Jess.

"Do you want to try it on?" the girl asked, holding my dress in a garment bag like it was filled with gold.

"No, I'm sure it's great," I said. I thanked her again and swung the bag over my shoulder.

It's not that I didn't want to go to prom, it's that I wasn't giddy about it.

It just wasn't how I'd thought it'd be.

And that was okay...because every day was different now, and I was happy, mostly. Having fun, even. But I don't know. Prom was one of _those_ days...like birthdays and first kiss anniversaries: it just sticks out. Now, it would be a reminder that something terrible had happened, not that I was ever able to forget it.

With a deep sigh, I veered left and went out to the parking lot to deposit my dress in the car so I didn't have to drag it all over the stupid mall.

"Hey!" I heard a shout when I was halfway to the car. I looked up to see Emmett hanging half way out of his jeep like a fool, the bass from his radio way too loud. Edward was in the passenger seat leaning forward, both laughing at me.

"Swan is getting ready for prom," Emmett said in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

"Shut up. You're wearing a turquoise cummerbund," I said, shifting the dress to my other shoulder.

"The hell I am," Emmett said, turning the radio down.

"There's a blonde inside who's pretty sure you are," I grinned, nodding toward the mall.

"Are you serious right now?"

"That or purple."

"Keep an eye on this," Emmett said to Edward, then he sprung from the running car and bounded toward the mall, shouting over his shoulder, "Pull it around back, I'll meet you!" Edward watched Emmett take off and I rolled my eyes and got into the driver's seat.

"You're back," I said, putting the jeep in gear. "How was it?"

"Good," he said.

"_Good_?"

"Yeah. Good. It was good to be just…a face in the crowd or whatever. Out was good, anyway. But the actual grandparents and parents thing. You know. They looked at me like I was a cuddly time-bomb the whole time."

"Gross."

"It is what it is," he said, then looked out the window, thus sealing a weird tension—my loud and dumb declaration from days ago lingering in space between.

"Listen, about right before you left-"

"We need to talk-"

We both started and stopped at the same time, then we were silent until I pulled into the alley where we both got out of the car.

Maybe just to breathe with space.

I was awkward and Edward cracked his gum, pacing back and forth while I leaned against the jeep.

"I want you to go to therapy," he finally said, hands in his hair, looking straight at me.

"_What_?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. Of all the things I expected, that wasn't it. "I'm fine. I'm-"

"You're not fine. Even if you think you are, or you are now, it's coming. Trust me."

"I'm seriously fine," I insisted.

"You're not, but I also know you're not going to admit that. So. I need you to go. If for no other reason, go so you can learn how to deal with me. I am not an easy person anymore, Bella. Go because sometimes, I'm going to tell you to get the hell away from me and I'm going to really fucking mean it and I can't be worried that I hurt your feelings. When I don't want to touch you or look at you, you'll need to know what to do and how to feel about that and understand it's got nothing to do with you. And when you are so ready for things that I am not, how are we both supposed to be okay with that? I know you can say you know all that, but you don't. I can be really fucking mean sometimes, or really fucking sad sometimes, or restless, or-"

"Edward. I can handle that. I _know_ that. And as far as being ready…I won't be until you are. Do you see that? If you're not ready, it means I'm not ready for you, either. All that aside…are you saying you want to like…try this?" He shuffled his feet but never took his eyes off me. I could feel the force of his gaze go into me and around me and through me. He opened his mouth and blew out a stream of breath before responding.

"Bell, I need you to go to therapy because I can't afford for this to start with us and then not work out. I won't be able to deal if you can't. That is a shit-ton of pressure to put on you, and I know I'm an asshole for doing it and I know you'll resent me for tying you to this, but," he laughed, this near-hysterical but steady thing, "I'm just being honest. I have absolutely no business even having this conversation, but I can't help it. I know it, I know this is so unfair to you to even think of going there, but you're stubborn and don't stop anyway, so screw it," he said. With a laugh, he continued his rushed speech, and I knew him enough, I _knew_ him. I knew that this talk, his confronting me had been mulled over and practiced many, many times. "You've got to go to therapy. We don't have the luxury of being carefree or whatever we were before. I can't do anything without major thinking and waiting and patience. If you want to be young and seventeen and can't live like that, that's totally fair. You can and should walk now. Because if that's how you want to do this, all freewheeling and carefree, we can't do this at all."

"I'll go see a therapist if you want me to go see a therapist," I said, palms in the air. Didn't he know I'd do anything for him?

"This is going to be a disaster," he said, resuming his pacing. "You're going to hate me for this. If it goes bad, Bella…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Do you know I'm not supposed to have like, any type of emotional dependency on anyone right now? This is _so_ off limits to me right now. Any textbook, any doctor would say this has fucking catastrophe written all over it. For both of us. If we start this before we're ready—we could ruin any future possibility. You know that, right?"

"Okay. Fine. Maybe it's naïve and stupid and we're both way in over our heads," I said. "Do you want me to walk away from you right now?"

"In some ways, yes," he said.

"What about the selfish ways?"

"No."

"Well, then. Why can't we just do this? Just be near and know that possibly some day we might-"

"It's not that simple! I can't just drag you along and make flighty decisions!" he said, exasperated, his hands flopping in the air. "This isn't 'you like me and I like you so yay, let's go make out under the bleachers.' I have _got_ to think long-term and carefully. If this goes bad, I cannot…handle the fallout. Not on top of everything else. And I'm going to hurt you. It's inevitable."

"I'll be prepared."

"You're acting like a masochist and you're blowing me off. Please. Think about this. For both of our sakes."

"I can't beg you to do this, Edward. All I can do is wait for you, and I will. I know it will be rough beyond what I can imagine. All I can do is deal with things when they happen."

"And what if you can't? What if you start to resent me for it, or if you just get tired of my bullshit?"

"Oh. You mean like right now?" I asked with a tight smile. "Look. I loved you when I was fourteen before you even knew I existed. I loved you when you were a boy in tights. I loved you when I thought there was a very real chance that I'd never see you again. If I could ever, ever let go of you, it would've been when I thought I'd lost you forever. I don't have a crystal ball. I can't show you the future and, Edward, I can't prove things that haven't even happened yet. So, if you're not ready, then you're not. That's okay. I'll wait. I can have the patience and the confidence for both of us."

"And I'm what? The fucked-up kid who asked you to do that? Don't you see how that will just breed resentment in you? In me?"

"You want me to argue you out of this," I said. "I'm not going to do that. This terrible, undeniable nightmare happened. We cannot change that. But where is it written that we automatically don't have a chance just because it happened?" I asked.

"It's not! I just-I don't-" He flinched and stuttered over his words, shoulders rising to his ears, his frustration growing, heating before completely deflating. He turned to me, the opposition and fight gone from his eyes, his hands resting on the top of his head. "I'm a nervous wreck and I just want to know it's okay to want this."

"Edward. Either way, it's okay," I said. "I should never have put pressure on you before you left."

"It was there before," he said. "I did it to myself. I'm in the middle of all this bullshit and somehow, even though it should be the furthest thing from my mind, I cannot stay away from you. Not my mind, anyway," he said, then gave me a half smile. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"Yeah, well, I meant my yelling, and I stand by it," I shrugged with a smile.

"I'm just worried. For both of us."

"Seriously. If it's too much for you to take on right now, that's okay."

"It's not even about taking it on," he sighed. "It's there no matter what. Like everything else, I have to deal with it."

"Aw, thanks," I said.

"There are worse things to deal with," he smiled, rolling his eyes.

I opened the jeep door and sat, legs dangling. I leaned my head against the steering wheel, watching him when he turned to watch me.

We kind of just stared at each other, at some kind of weird stalemate but at the same time, on the same team. Thing were calm. Words had run out, and when I went over them, there hadn't been an argument at all. Just an unsure guy and an over-eager girl, both trying to arrive at the same place.

I would learn quickly that this is how things went with him. Explosive, insecure spats and outbursts before he was ready to breathe, to talk like it never happened at all only to repeat it again next time it got to him.

I let my body relax and the adrenaline drain; I was learning and willing to follow him to his dark places and be quiet with him in the calm recesses and wait for the light. I knew it would always return. That is what we were going to do, to learn and lead and follow together. Because when you love someone…it's just what you do.

He looked from my eyes to my lips, then back again. I watched the heavy ebb and flow of him, his moods adrift for I don't know how long.

"You look pretty," he finally said. He jerked his chin in my direction. Immediately, my cheeks burned red.

"No, I don't, I'm a gross mess," I said, turning my eyes away. "And I think my prom dress is a size too small. You know how I'm a depression eater. See this new chin?" I asked, pointing.

"Nah. You'll look beautiful. I know it."

"Right. Thank you."

"So, prom, huh?" he asked. "That time already?"

"It'll be weird. Jess thought for sure you'd be prom king, come to think of it...since freshman year, I think everyone figured that."

"Prom king," he said, shaking his head. "Most days, I feel like an old man."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Just...old. Or, I don't know. I'm the only eighteen-year old in AA. By the time I'm legal, I'll have three years sobriety under my belt," he said. "It's so fucked that it's funny."

"Well, I pulled short straw for DD on prom anyway, so, I feel ya," I said.

"Sucks for you."

"Right? Of all the people that shouldn't be sober at prom, I think I win."

"Nah, you'll be good. You'll be great."

"Edward. I will not and you know that. I haven't turned into a miraculous dancer over time."

"You always did fine."

"I always had you to lead." He gave me a half smile and sighed.

"Who's taking you? I know you're friends with that kid still. Is he-?"

"Who, Jake? No, his girlfriend probably wouldn't like that. I'm just... we're all going in a big group. I'm not really looking forward to it. It's just not what I thought it would be. But I'm getting used to things not going as planned."

"No shit. What did you think it would be?" he asked, raising his brows.

"Come on," I said, flatly.

"What?"

"You and me, dummy."

"You thought about that?" he asked, amusement and something else lighting his face.

"Well. Yeah. I'm a girl, okay?" I said defensively.

"I remember that part," he said, clearing his throat. "I mean...you thought about us going to prom? Two years before prom?" he asked.

"Are you making fun of me?" I asked, my arms crossing over my chest.

"Yes."

"Well, nice of you to bruise my ego. I'll be over here, licking my wounds," I said, but I couldn't keep the smile from my face, so I turned, letting my forehead rest on the steering wheel, peeking at him from the corner of my eye.

"Oh, stop," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You stop."

"Come here."

"Why?" I asked, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that we were flirting. "Because. Come here," he said again, pointing at the ground in front of him.

"You come here," I said, re-crossing my arms, sitting back in the seat.

"Do I have to chase you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You run like a newborn giraffe with broken legs. Do you really want to do that?"

"I'm no longer speaking with you," I said, tilting my chin away from him, but I was smiling so true and wide anyone could see it was a lie.

He laughed and worked his gum, staring at me before rolling his eyes and walking over to me.

"What?" I whispered looking up, then down, at the hand he was holding out to me.

"What?" I asked again, my breathing too shallow, my mouth gone dry. I took his hand, one of us was shaking. I stepped out of the car and he took his upper lip in his mouth, then his other hand was on my back, a feather light touch that ignited something from long ago inside of me.

"Prom," he whispered, then put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's not give him prom, too."

"We're dancing?" I asked.

"I'm dancing. You're hanging on and stumbling. It's just like old times."

I wanted to reply, to laugh or insult him back, but nothing would come out of my suddenly swollen throat and then, to ruin it all, I started to cry.

"Shhh," he said, but there was a small smile on his lips and while I tried to maintain distance between us, I hadn't been so close to love in so long, it made me a thousand things all over. Sad and elated and scared and eager and sure but crazy.

"Okay," I sniffed, my face crumpling, my body hurriedly twisting from his too light grasp. "Let go. Let go."

His hands were off of me in an instant and I covered my face in my own hands, crying into them.

"Bella?"

"I miss you too much," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "I miss you so much."

I blinked and his hand shot out, grabbing my forearm and jerking me to him and then I was enveloped in the safe and warm and only that I had missed for so, so long.

I cried hot with relief, with the warmth rushing back to that spot in my chest that had been cold and empty for so long. He held tighter and thank God, because he was the only one, the only way to fix it.

My arms were crossed over my heart, crushed so sweet and tight between us. He held on tighter, his breath steady on my neck and then he held closer, his forehead pressing to my shoulder so he arced and bowed over me, all of me, putting me where I needed to be. I breathed it all in, finally in the only spot I'd wanted to be in for so, so long.

"It's going to be okay now, Bell. I'm home."

I wriggled my fingers, warm and shaking between us and grasped onto his shirt, my eyes closed, all of me tucked into him and I knew it would work. I wouldn't have to convince him of that because he'd see it for himself.

"This is how I know it will be okay," I whispered.

I felt his hand wrap around the back of my neck and then lower, pressed between my shoulders, his palm splayed and spanning, holding me closer to him, his other arm firmly around my waist, holding me close and home for I don't know how long.

He said nothing, but stepped back half a step and started to move to a rhythm, something slow that only he knew but it didn't matter, because he led me along. And I think that that is how we would muddle through. One of us will lead when the other just doesn't know how.

It was not the prom I'd imagined since middle school.

In a lot of ways, it was tragic, but in terrible, morbid ways…it was better. The truth is, I couldn't have it the other way, and that was okay.

Constantly dwelling on the past or what you don't have or trying to go back?

That's pointless. Fruitless, even.

But forward?

You can always, always go forward.

**Hello! Busy weekend. Good to seeya. I hope to hit up all of the reviews that gathered over the weekend. I promise, I read every single one. Thank you! We're uhh rounding third here, and not in the copping a feel sense. See you guys tomorrow!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter eighteen**

My stomach roiled with butterflies and I had a hard time trying to sleep that night of the mall dumpster prom. I was excited and hopeful, all full of anticipation and trepidation. It occurred to me that this feeling, this thing… it was falling in love all over again. I had always loved him, but now, it was starting all over again, into this new and real thing, too.

"I wish you'd change your mind," Rosalie lamented over the phone.

"Why? You're going to be all over Em all night, anyway," I said. "I don't want to keep you from…I don't know. Hand jobs under the bleachers or whatever he's going to try to convince you to do."

"Ugh. That was freshmen year," Rosalie said. "We've matured. He'll take me to the car."

"You have fun with that," I said with a small smile.

"But your dress. I mean. You're not going to regret it at all? Senior prom only happens once, dude," Rose said, her voice cautiously pinched, but in a different way from the last few years of pinched phone calls between Rosalie and Bella. So, I thought about it.

Sure, senior prom only happens once, but I didn't want to spend it wanting to be somewhere else. The entire time I'd just be staring at the clock or texting Edward, anyway. What's the point in forcing a memory that you'd rather not experience in the first place? I had a sudden vision of being like, thirty-five and only remembering half-heartedly pumping my arms to Katy Perry and hiding out in the bathroom.

"No, Rose. I want…other things," I finally said.

"I know. Really, I only want you there because you just make me look way better on the dance floor," she laughed.

"Goodbye, jerk."

I rolled my eyes and hung up on her, but I didn't put my phone down. I stuck one thumbnail in my mouth and used the other to quickly dial, ignoring the roaring butterflies in my stomach.

"Bella?" Edward answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi. So. I know I just saw you and I know we're going slow so don't think I'm a lunatic-"

"Please, I've seen the inside of your locker. You built me a shrine. I know I'm on your mind," he said, and I grinned at how sometimes, that cockiness showed—even if it was just a joke on his own behalf.

"Ugh. I took that down. Listen," I started, now determined to go ahead as his mood seemed pretty bright.

"Okay."

"Would you...go to dinner with me?'

"What? Why?"

"Because."

"I just ate. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Would you just go to dinner with me?" I asked again, my cheeks burning something fierce, thinking this was such a dumb idea.

"Okay...?" he said slowly.

"Edward. I'm asking you out on a date."

"Is that what this is?"

"Edward."

"Oh. For real?" he asked, a small chuckle reaching out across the line.

"Yes. So just please, put me out of my misery and answer. You're making me nervous," I told him.

"Hmm. Will you be paying?"

"I am a modern woman, so yes."

"Will you come in and meet my dad and promise to have me home by ten?"

"Please be nice to me right now."

"Will you promise to not get all handsy?"

"I'm hanging up on you now."

"Wait. Yeah. Yes. I'll go. Other than every reason ever, why not. Right?"

"Are you sure?"

"No. Not at all…but I _want_ to. So."

"Really?"

"No. I'm lying to you right now."

"Stop it!" I shrieked.

"I'm nervous too!" he shouted back.

"This is so dumb. I'll pick you up tomorrow. I'm hanging up before things get stupider."

"Bella, wait."

"What?"

"I'll pick you up."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_," he said, like I was an idiot. "Just...mind your manners."

"Okay."

"Wow."

"Wow."

"I'm hanging up."

"Okay."

And we both hung up.

I don't know what he did, but I flopped on my bed and screamed into my pillow, like we were fourteen again.

**xxxxx**

"Bella!" Charlie called, opening the door to see Edward standing there.

Charlie looked from me to Edward and back again.

"I see," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't, Dad," I warned, grabbing my bag from the couch while he held out his hand and shook Edward's.

"Be nice to my daughter."

"Dad!" I blanched. "Seriously?"

"And have her in by…do almost-high school graduates have curfews?" Charlie asked.

"No, they don't," I said, pushing past him.

"Don't be out too late," Charlie said but I was like, already bounding off the porch and striding to the car.

"I'm sorry. He's still…him," I sighed, pulling my seat belt on as Edward started the car.

"He was being nice to me," Edward said.

"What?"

"He was treating me like I'm any guy picking up his kid," he said, backing the car up. "It was nice of him."

"Is Charlie your best friend now?"

"Yeah. So don't talk shit about him," he grinned.

We were at the end of my street when things had gone decidedly quiet.

"Is this weird?" he asked, still paused at the sign.

"I don't want it to be weird."

"I know. But if we make this all…first date-like, it could get weird real quick."

Well, if you keep saying it's weird, it will be!" I said, exasperated.

"Okay, okay. Where are we going?" he asked and I stared at him blankly. "Wait a sec. _You_ call to take _me_ on a date and haven't actually planned the date?" he scoffed, shaking his head at my shame.

"Sorry?" He sighed and eased the car forward.

We ended up in a fast-food drive thru, me dictating my order by shouting out over him.

"There's no way you're eating all of that," he said, once my bag of food was in my lap.

"Watch me," I said, sticking a straw in my vanilla milkshake.

We drove and drove until there was nothing, not even a dirt road, really, just an old gravel path that hadn't been used in years.

"This looks like the perfect crime scene spot," I blurted out, cringing even as I said it. I had to slowly unclench my fist from around my cup, easing out a breath and waiting for... whatever would come next. I stared at my lap with unseeing eyes until he tapped the side of my head. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he said, an amused smile on his face. "It's okay. It was funny."

"It was not."

"Okay, it wasn't, but that's just because you're shitty with quips when you're nervous. But it wasn't offensive to me, either."

"I wasn't thinking, I just-"

"I love that you weren't thinking of it. Okay?" He chuckled again, and this time it was light and teasing. "Bella. I've been out, hanging out with people, living life for awhile now. It's not always eggshells with me. Okay?"

I nodded slowly as he held my gaze, and I was just going to have do and say and breathe and hope and trust that if something wasn't okay…he'd let me know.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You know, I know I get volatile and moody, but things were intense with you for awhile. Just... the confusion of you and me, and I think you kinda got it worse than most. But the more I can just…relax into this…you seem to be under the impression that I'm not aware that great things can happen, too. But I am. In a way…all of the things that plague me are the very things that make me aware that…you know. As long as you're alive, you can overcome."

"Do you ever think about where we would be right now, if that hadn't happened?" I asked.

"Hah. Bella, that's a tricky game," he said. "Look. I still get angry and I still think about everything I can't get back. Or just how things could've been different. It's weird thinking that there was a whole other fate for me, or me and you, or whatever. I'll never know how I would've turned out. But you know what I realized?"

"Hmm?"

"I found out that pondering that shit will make you crazy."

"You'll never know," I confirmed. "You can't think what if."

"Exactly."

He laid his head back on the seat and looked at me, from my lips and up to my eyes and back again, his expression cautious; guarded but…something else, too.

"Bella..." he whispered.

"What?" I whispered back, my heart falling and swirling, certain we were on some kind of knife's edge.

"You've got ketchup on your chin," he said, laughing and tossing a napkin at me.

"Oh my God, you are so _mean_," I said, swiping the ketchup from my chin. "All I ever do, day in, day out, is think of you. And you're so mean." It was a calculated risk, that comment, and I knew it. But somehow, it felt right, mirroring old, painfully sweet words back at him.

"The look on your face..." he said, trailing off into laughter again. Either he remembered his old words or he didn't, and I found that I didn't are either way. He was being soft and easy and it just felt too good to obsess over my own words for once.

"I thought you were going to say something profound!"

"Like what?" he asked, laughing harder, palms up in the air.

"I don't know! That's why I was so intense! I was on tenterhooks!"

"God, kid," he said, shaking his head.

"You're a terrible date. Insults and fast food," I tsked.

"Hey."

"What?" I asked, tossing the used napkin at his face, but he caught it in his fist before it hit him."I missed you, too."

"I don't know what's okay or not," I blurted out. "I'm nervous to say or do the wrong thing. I think it's the weird date setting. The word just denotes like, romance or expectation. I don't want to treat you like a kid or something, but I don't want to ruin this either. So tell me what you want."

"You're not going to break me, Bella," he said wryly. "And if it looks like you're going to, I'll tell you to knock it off."

"Can we be serious for a second?" I asked, swallowing.

"Yeah."

"Can I touch you?" I asked, my face flaming with embarrassment, but I had to know. I've seen him have countless, ordinary physical interactions- with Emmett, Jasper, his mother, Tanya, even Charlie just a little while ago, but…touching for us has always had a different kind of meaning. Okay, it was downright sexual. I had no idea how that would translate for him now. And despite our hug, that very intense moment- I just wasn't sure if I could just reach out and…well. Touch him.

Edward sucked air in through his teeth and let out a breathless laugh.

"You haven't changed at all, eh? Always with the touching."

"Tell me."

"I hate that that's even a question," he commented, a pensive look on his face.

"But that's how things are now," I pointed out. "And it's okay. I don't mind having to ask."

"Work within your perimeters," he said.

"Uh. What?"

"It's a...thing I learned," he said, looking down, "like...work with the situation you _do_ have."

"Oh. Exactly."

"Look, Bella...I have no idea. But this," he said, picking up my limp arm. He kind of shook it, making my hand flop around. "I have no problem with this. I don't like to be grabbed if I don't see it coming, though," he said, letting my arm go. "You can touch me in general, like. I'm not fucking spun glass. I think you think I'm this broken thing that can fall apart or break down at any second. Maybe for awhile that was true, and maybe the cracks will always be there. But I am me," he said, "I'm still me. I don't think that's what you were trying to get to, though."

"Not entirely, but that's good to know, too," I said.

"We should clear this up anyway. No carefree, right?" he said, then, "In theory...yes. Touch me all over, please. But I don't know what will be in my head. I think of you and I know what I want. I do. I swear. But then the reality of it, and when I really think about it? I'm not sure. Sex is still so indefinable to me."

"How do you mean?" I asked, turning in my seat to look at him.

"I know it feels good," he said with a smile, "or at least it can. But it's the feeling that comes with it that gets to me. You know? It's not the physical act, that's no problem. It's the stuff like...uh. Shame? Wrong in general. I mean, I still _function?_ Fuck, this is awkward," he said with a small laugh. He sucked in a deep breath and looked off in the distance, seeming to scan the treeline or the skies or his own thoughts for a full minute before responding. "But when I do, I can get really upset. Sad, pissed, scared out of my fucking mind. For the most part, I think that I associate a really good physical feeling with the worst fucking emotions. They go hand in hand with me right now, and I just have to try to disassociate the two, according to my therapist, anyway. It's more the feelings it brings than the physical act. I think, anyway. I don't know. I haven't exactly put the theory to the test." He finished speaking and clear his throat, biting on his lip, still not looking my way.

"Thank you for telling me that," I said.

"Shut up," he laughed, shaking his head down at his legs. "You probably learned that that that was the proper response that on psychobabble day-time talk show. I thought I cured you of your Dr. Phil obsession." He looked down his nose at me, a ridiculously serious expression on his face, but I could see the old laughter in his eyes, the quiver in his lips as he held onto his own mirth. It was... it was a miracle, and it took everything I had in me to contain the triumphant swell of pride and happiness threatening to overset this moment that we were having. I took an enormous breath and plastered a placid expression on my face.

"No. Seriously. It's a big deal that you're telling me. To me. So thank you."

"Okay," he breathed, looking up, almost shy, with a small smile. "What about you, anyway? Have you-"

"No."

My firm response echoed and resounded in the car.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nope."

He did a double take back at me and leaned in, his face serious and questioning.

"Why? We were so close, and you were...well. Ya seemed _really_ ready," he said with a laugh.

"I think…look. Honestly? I was close to it," I said and he nodded slowly. "But I'm glad it never happened. I'm glad that…it will be you? Someday."

"Hah," he kind of breathed, a nervous bark of a laugh, then put his hand in his hair for a second. "You have been more patient with me than I had any right to expect."

"I'm not the hero here," I said. "The truth is, I would've waited forever. I'm not the hero. I'm a lovesick girl who happens to be a bit tenacious."

One corner of his mouth lifted and his gaze slipped past me. He rocked a second in the seat before giving a quick flinch, then he swore softly under his breath before he leaned in and put a hand on the back of my neck.

"What?" I whispered, my eyes darting from his eyes to his lips, his hand shaking on the back of my neck.

"Just…be okay with me, okay?" he whispered.

I had no clue what he was talking about, but he was talking so soft and sweet and near, his eyes almost pleading with me and so I nodded along, slack-lipped and willing.

"What do you want?" I whispered, but I knew. I knew as I put my fingers lightly on his chin and his lips twitched. I knew as I could feel the warmth of him meet my own warmth, and I knew when his hand on the back of my neck stopped shaking.

"I just want to try one thing," he whispered.

The certain uncertainty in his touch made me go still, but his wide, proud, hopeful gaze when he looked right at me made me lurch toward him, my hands in my lap, my fists clenched while he slowly took my face in his hands and gave a soft laugh before coming closer, nodding a slight reassurance to himself. "Okay," he breathed, so close to my own lips.

There was a time, many times actually, when I never thought this day, this moment, this very _second_ would ever happen.

For a long time I believed our_ time_ had been suspended or snuffed out, those particular kids lost forever. But that moment, back then? Those kids in that simple time? Simply was not our time.

Our time is now.

**I just wanna clear up one rumor I keep hearing, and like, when this story started getting read by people, I told myself and told myself that I wasn't going to get all involved in stuff, to just keep it to any directly addressed messages whether via review or PM.**

**But this... this _rumor_ I keep seeing mentioned. It's just... I need to say something, you guys. Sorry for possibly inviting drama, but there you have it.**

**The truth is...**

**I am _not_ Robert Pattinson. **

**Sorry.**

**Travis out. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter nineteen**

Aro Vouch died of a heart attack in prison.

For me, the news was an odd mix of relief and disappointment. I'd wanted him to rot forever in a dingy, dank cell, and the darkest parts of me wanted to hear reports of violence and pain and attacks on him- but I suppose the hell he will be in for eternity is fine, too.

We found out via the local channels. No big deal was made this time around; it was simply a small blurb of a story right before the weather. No cable stations picked it up, and no one huddled together for support or to celebrate or commiserate, which was fitting. He didn't deserve one more moment of notice, one more second of our lives.

"Huh," Edward uttered, long limbs splayed on my couch when the news filtered from the television, a background distraction. He snapped his gum twice then changed the channel.

I kept still and looked at him from the corner of my eye. His phone pinged, a text from his mother asking if he'd heard and whether he was okay. He quickly texted a response and tossed his phone on the coffee table.

"You alright?" I asked, wedging my feet under his legs.

"Yeah," he said slowly, then he lolled his head in my direction and his brows furrowed before he smiled, "Yeah," he said again, almost surprised to be saying it and meaning it. "I am. It's…whatever."

"But is it?" I asked.

"I guess it has no bearing on me either way. I mean…I'm glad we're no longer breathing the same air and all. Other than that, he wasn't going to affect me any further anyway. I decided that already. I'm dealing with the damage he inflicted, and I'll be damned if I take anymore. I guess if he had the possibility of parole or something I'd be a lot more relieved, but he didn't. So. Whatever."

The thing was, his words and his demeanor weren't withdrawn or passive-aggressive or even laced with dark or sad. He meant that- whatever.

"Listen to this," I said, sitting up. I slid my feet out but he caught them by the ankles.

"Listening," he said.

"You know you're amazing, right?"

"Yes. I've always known that."

"No, seriously." Both of my palms were on his cheeks now. I could tell he was going to look away from this moment; he was prone to looking away and denying shit whenever I started in on him, and I wasn't going to let him this time.

"Please don't call me brave or strong," he said, shaking his head, still sandwiched by my hands. "Trust me, I wouldn't have gone through that willingly. It's got nothing to do with strong or brave. I hate when people say that. It happened to me. I didn't pick it—I wouldn't have. Who would? And I sure as hell wouldn't go through it again. And as far as his death…I knew I'd outlive him. Once, one time in particular…" He looked over at me, gauging my face before speaking again, "I thought he for sure he was going to kill me."

"You did?" I breathed. I mean, I'd figured as much, but for how much Edward and I had talked about it, he never went there. To actual things that had actually happened.

He nodded and sat back on the couch, toying with my fingers.

"It was a weird time. Well. It was all weird but in that weird context, it was weird. It was awhile in to it—I'm not sure, my time perception when I think back on it isn't great. But I'd stopped physically fighting him. I was just…you know. You kind of go to a place of what-the-fuck-ever. I was always physically stronger than him, but he had guns and knives and shit, so it was never much of a physical fight. He'd usually end it as soon as it started—whatever," he said, flinching, shaking that line of thinking off. "I think when this happened he thought that I'd reached a place of- complacency? I guess I did. He wasn't so aggressive when he talked to me. He would like, make conversation about movies or the news or baseball, so I think he thought that I'd just…given up. And then he comes at me one day, and I was just so fucking done. So over it. And just…pissed. When someone just does what they want to—pffff. I was done. I told him that. And that's when he told me, he said, 'if you're done, I'm gonna fucking kill you.' And he meant it." It was all recited stoically- not in an emotionless way, but more like it was something he'd said or maybe just thought over and over, something he had lived and just now re-lived. He held his fingers to his temple like a gun for emphasis.

I recoiled in on myself, but he reached out to grasp my fingers tightly, and I knew I didn't know the whole story of his everyday with that guy. I wondered if I ever would, and I wondered if I wanted to. But then…I wanted to know whatever he needed to tell me.

"You know something weird? I thought about it. I was almost relieved. I thought, 'oh my god, there is a way out of this and I fucking want it.' I wanted to die," he said, his lips pressing into a thin line before continuing, "but at the same time, there were so many things I wanted to live for. Things I didn't have anymore but knew were still out there.

"Then one day, it was sort of... different? I looked at him. Like, _really_ looked at him, not just through him as I'd been doing for however long. He was old. I think he must've had liver problems because his eyes were kind of yellow and obviously, his heart was shit. That's when I started calculating? Like, I just _knew_…I'd just have to outlive him. It became this thing where I had to keep on going longer than he could. That's how I got through it all, like it was some competitive game.

"When I knew he was gonna take some kid, I knew I couldn't let him do it to someone else; I just couldn't, which was kinda selfish, too. Because I knew that as soon as he replaced me, he was going to kill me. There was no way around it. He couldn't snatch up another kid and then just let me go. I mean, no _way_ was I gonna let him kill me, not after all I'd been through would he just _kill_ me. I didn't go through all that for nothing. If it ended that way, I may as well have let him shoot me the night he took me. I guess I could've died trying to get out? I knew it was a possibility, but then I figured…I figured…it'd be on my terms, whatever happened. By that point, I was so done that I saw it as either get out or die."

I slowly moved closer to him and he lifted his arm, letting me under it, then put his chin on top of my head. I thought back to that boy- not the boy from before, not the man sitting here now, but that boy in between. The one who I launched myself at when he came home. The wild-eyed, sad, scared and angry boy who had been returning from things like what he'd just said. So fresh from that terrible fucking fight for his life and his hope.

He had come so far.

"I didn't mean to freak you out," he said. "I've told that one a lot, so I can be kind of-"

"I'm glad you told me."

"Okay," he said. We heard the name Aro Vouch on the television again, and Edward shifted. I looked up at him as he blinked at the television in some kind of revelation that I was aware of because he told me, but I'd never known the gravity of until just then. "I outlived him," he said, staring at the TV. "_I won."_

"Of course you did. You're the best," I told him.

He let go of my hands and raised both of his fists in the air, followed by a wryly triumphant, "Yesssssssss."

I gave him a slow clap while he celebrated his victory over my unprompted admission, then he demanded I say it again, holding my ankle as hostage. I cackled, mostly because of the wonderment of what we could do together. Of what we were capable of now. Talking and going on. Taking things as they came up, but still able to return to us.

"So now that I took my turn sharing secrets, are you gonna tell me what you're hiding in there?" he asked, poking the front pocket of my shirt, where a piece of paper crinkled under his touch.

"How did you know?" I asked, incredulous, sitting up straight and turning my body to face him.

"You're like, the worst hider of things ever."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are. You look down at your knees and your face gets red at random intervals throughout the day whenever you're hiding something."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I do not," I said…looking up from my knees.

"Right. Are you gonna tell me or…"

I sat back and sighed, pulling the paper from my pocket. I made a show of unfolding it and splaying it between us.

I held it there with one hand and with my other stuck my thumbnail between my teeth, watching him from the corner of my eye.

He hadn't applied to any schools.

There was no draft for him either.

Turns out he was right years ago when he said "anything could happen."

Edward's eyes flicked at the paper, back to me, then the paper again while I held my breath.

My first reaction when I realized I had to tell him was guilt. Because it almost felt like bragging? Or maybe rubbing it in his face that I wasn't robbed of opportunities the way he was. Then it occurred to me…Edward can _still_ do anything. He can make choices. He still has opportunities and decisions and all of that.

I wouldn't lie to him. No one should ever lie to him or treat him like he cannot handle things—he can handle _any_thing.

"No shit?" he asked, a smile, the big one, the _real_ one, unfurling on his face.

I nodded, nail still wedged in my teeth, but my heart started to speed up when he yanked the paper from under my palm and held it closer to his face.

He read it once, the entire thing, then flipped the paper over to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Where's the whole thing?" he asked.

"It's this huge packet. I just wanted to show you…I got in. And where and all of that." He looked down and read it again, quietly, but when he looked up, he was beaming.

"Congratulations," he said brightly, then shook his head, looking down again. "Look at you. I'm proud of you."

"Stop it."

"I am," he insisted. "Be proud of yourself, too. This is…" he trailed off and then gazed at the television a second, still grasping that letter.

"Bittersweet?" I whispered, but his eyes quickly snapped back to mine.

"No," he said vehemently. "Only sweet."

"But you…okay. I'll be blunt. You've got to be thinking that it could have been you reading a college acceptance letter, too. I didn't want to like, rub it in or-" He laughed at the caution on my face, then ran his fingertip between my brows, smoothing the furrow there.

"Maybe it's a thought…but it's not a bitter one. Just a passing idea, or whatever. I try not to think in terms of what could be…when it's simply not."

"Edward, how can that even not be-"

"Easy," he shrugged. "There are a ton of kids- people- out there who are like me, but who never come home. There are some out there right now, going through…hell," he said simply before flinching and flicking up the brim of his hat. "That fucking bothers me. But I'm here," he said, then patted his own chest, "I mean, here I am."

"Here you are," I said, smiling softly at him.

"So, like- how can I feel bitter about stuff like that? I still get a chance to go and do that. Or anything I want. I have that, and it might be more work or not what I planned, but so what? The point is, I can. And there are a shit-ton of people just like me who cannot. Who never will. So awhile back, I decided that I'm not gonna take any of it for granted. I can't spend one minute feeling like that when there are people who'd give anything- _anything_- victims, parents, friends, girlfriends—to be here. To come home. I'm not bitter. I'm lucky."

"I didn't know you felt like that."

"For a long time, I didn't. Because it just seemed like…why me? Why does everyone else get to escape this hell and my life was chosen to be fucked over, you know? There was therapy and all that, and it helped. But Bella, do you wanna know what really slapped me in the head?"

"What?"

"_There but for the grace of God go I_."

"What now?"

"I notice those kids. Pictures of missing people, like... everywhere. Fliers, little stories on the news, on cans at grocery store registers with nothing but pennies inside," he said, rolling his eyes, giving a disgusted laugh. "It used to be nothing, a blur or 'oh that sucks'- but now, those people on cans? They're me. The only difference is some of them- most of them- won't come home, and I did. _So_ easily, they could be me. How could I feel bitter? Who the hell am I to be bitter about it? I _am _the miracle they all hope for, every second of every day, and I _won't_ waste it. Feeling sorry for myself- wasting the very thing they all pray for- would be like kicking them in the face. Like, how dare I _even_…"

"Because you went through it and I think that if you wanted, you'd have every right to feel pissed off about everything taken from you," I countered. I admired his viewpoint, I was blown _away_ by it, but I didn't want him to think he'd been through hell so he should never again feel justified in feeling…shitty.

"I did. I _did_ do that. I can't do that forever! I don't want to. I have a second chance, in a way, and that's not how I want to use it. Stop begging me to be angry and depressed," he said with a laugh, tugging my ponytail.

"I just can't wrap my mind around how much better you are than I am," I said, and I laughed, because it was true.

"Don't worry, most can't. I am awesome. My therapist tells me so."

"So awesome that I can't leave you. I'm not going. So. I mean, a long time ago, I accepted or whatever but you know what? I Googled it, and do you have any idea how many incoming freshmen just don't show up? It's crazy, but-"

"You're going to Dartmouth," he said, pushing my feet away from him.

"No. I thought about it. I'm not."

"You _are_ going to school."

"Listen, Dad. I get what you're trying to do here, but it's my decision. I am not ready to go to school. I've got a… therapist here."

"That bastard isn't wiping out your future. No. Fuck no," Edward said, shaking his head.

"He isn't doing shit. I am," I said, pointing to my chest. "I've lost a lot of time with you and I—me—for _me_—_I'm_ not ready to leave you."

"If I'd never been gone, you'd be going. If I never came back, you'd be going. I am the common denominator here. And I get that you're entitled to your feelings and decisions and all that—but B. You're going to school. You're fucking going."

"Are you going to put me on a plane and make me sit in classes?" I laughed. "I'm not going."

"Fine," he said, "Stay in Forks. But I'm not going to be here."

"What?" I asked, my brows furrowing. "What are you saying?"

"I told you. I told you I can't stay here. I can't live at my parents' house forever. I've got to start living, too."

"Where are you going?" I asked, but it came out this weird, desperate mewl, making me into the girl I did not want to be.

"I have no idea," he shrugged. "But I'm pretty sure I can coach little league in any of the fifty states. That's the thing about community colleges. They're in every community."

I snatched the remote, nearly knocking down a glass of water in my haste, and flipped the television off, my heart pounding at the insane notion of having my cake and eating it, too.

"They have community colleges in New Hampshire," I said carefully.

He ran a hand down his face and pulled his upper lip into his mouth.

"Just…think about it for a second," I said. "You want to leave here anyway. I've got somewhere to go. I think given the circumstances, I can get out of living in the dorms-"

"Whoa," he said, holding a hand up. "Just. Stop."

"Stopped."

"Don't take this badly," he said. He tilted his head to the side, this action of sympathetic expression he's taken to giving right before he says something that he thinks will hurt my feelings. "But I don't want to live with you."

It stung. How could it not? Those kinds of statements generally do. But he has to say them and I have to hear them because we both know that we can't afford lying or side-stepping. Not if we want…us. More than once, I've nodded along or listened and went home and cried or ended up yelling at my own therapist about how I know it's not him rejecting me, I _know_ that—but still. My very original feelings remain in a very unique situation and sometimes, even though I know it's not _me _he's pushing against—it hurts.

"Oh. Right, no. Of course," I said, waving my hand, my cheeks turning red at my ridiculous, so far off, runaway idea.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his knee bobbing quickly now, his face turned away. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be."

"Okay. I won't be. I'll just add it to the list of one more thing Bella loses because-"

"I'm not going there right now," I said. "If you want to, go ahead. But you told me and I'm cool with it, so."

He sighed and cracked his gum, twice and hard.

"I have to try it on my own," he said. "I have to know I can. Because me and you? If we did that and it _did_ work out, it means I will have never been on my own. Maybe not such a big deal before, but now? Like. I have _got _to know if I can do it. I just do. It's kind of a big thing for me to just…know I can do that. And you, too. We're already too young to be living together. Add our super special fucking circumstances and…" he trailed off, then bumped my knee with his. "Besides, when we do that, I want us to really be able to do that. All of that. And I want it to be because it's time, not because you were leaving and I wanted out of here."

"I know," I sighed, and I did. "It was just…I got ahead of us. Sue me," I said. "You're right."

"For what it's worth," he said, "it did enter my mind."

"Ah. To be a blip on Edward Cullen's radar," I sighed dreamily.

"Don't make me feel bad for you," he said, tugging the ends of my hair.

"It's just…I want this more than I want school. Or anything. And it's like what you said before, about wasting second chances or whatever. I got you back, so how do I walk away from that? I'm not going. I'm not leaving the only thing I've been waiting on. That's dumb. And I thought we were doing really well. I don't want to-"

"What about not together but…close?" he asked.

"How close? Neighbors close? A bike ride close? A six hour car ride close?"

"Somewhere around Hanover close. I have no problem with that. It'd be like how it is here, you know?"

"You'd do that?"

"I'm going to get your ass to school one way or another," he grinned.

"Not for me. You'd do that for you and be okay with it?"

"I told you I was going anyway, I told you I didn't know where. It doesn't matter much where, and I definitely don't want to be far from you. I'm not like, trying to end us. Believe it or not, I like to be around you, too. I'm not ready to be so far, either. I just don't want to be sharing a bathroom with you."

"Where the hell is Hanover again? So like, we go to Hanover and then what?" I asked, my stomach rolling and the future was so wide that I wanted to know all of the plans, from now until forever.

"I don't know," he laughed. "Figure out what we're gonna be."

"And you'll do that in Hanover. With me," I said again, slowly.

"I think I promised Siberia once a long time ago, even. I feel like I'm getting off easy with Hanover."

I couldn't even laugh, though the giddiness was wound and coiled in my chest, just on the brink; all I could do was look at him and me. Look at us—having made it and now, with the world in front of us so vast and huge and scary. Terrifying and heart-splitting. But look at us.

Look at him.

I lurched myself at him, probably too hard because he made a noise and splayed his limbs out but I kissed his face all over until he finally caught my mouth with his own.

We'd mastered kissing by then; our kisses didn't leave the proverbial bruises I thought they might. They didn't snag on wounds or end in shouting or tears or aloneness. But- we're not ready for much more than that.

Then Charlie swung through the living room and didn't even pause as he said, "Get your hormones off of my couch."

Edward and I laughed, heaving ourselves up and nearly out the door. As for hormones, they rage on and on. We haven't exactly appeased them. And it's okay. Almost one time, things went a bit farther but it basically ended abruptly and turned into shouting and tears and hurt feelings which I tried to mask and Edward going from pissed off to guilt-stricken—but it's something I'm working on in therapy. It's not _me_ he's rejecting is what I have to learn to fully believe. Clearly, we're just not ready for more than what we have now. But what we do have is pretty wonderful.

We'll get there, though. We will and, be both know it. We're on this tenuous, tension-filled brink and ironically, for my part, it's kind of exhilarating to proceed with patience and caution. It's like making the effort not to peek at Christmas presents, or maybe it's more accurate to say it's a build-up of not only the usual thing-like sexual frustration-but cultivating and gradually getting closer means to build up trust and a whole different kind of intimacy.

Our kisses aren't what they once were. We aren't on some kind of zooming path to progress, to rounding first base and stealing third or whatever. When we touch, when we kiss, it's not really with the intention of going further…more just with the intention of showing…I love you.

When it does happen- when we make that leap or transition or jump that hurdle or maybe just slip right into it in the back seat of my car, it will be with liberating lift of a giant, invisible weight. It will be this conscious and aware, _so_ aware thing. Behind us, we know how devastating life can be—ahead, we know how wonderful it can be and we know, _now_ we know, not to take a single good moment for granted. When we're together that way, it will be with the fight for _us_ left way behind and we will know how lucky we are and how momentous the moment is.

In a weird way, I'm relieved, even grateful that it didn't happen before. I will always love the boy he was back then, but I want my first time, I want _us_ to start together with him being the man he is right now. I want him to have no doubt that he, exactly how he is, with what he's been through and how he came out on the other side of it, is exactly who I want.

A lot of him is the same, but some of him isn't. He's slower now. Not in action, but in thought. He goes off into quieter spaces all on his lonesome now. He has strength and confidence that I think he's always had—it's just that he found it; he's concentrated on it and made it more concentrated. If he can pull himself through that hell- and he did- he is, in fact, the strongest, bravest man I know.

Who wouldn't want their first time to be with someone like that?

**xxxxx**

"You cannot be serious," Esme said, the warm smile she had when she first spotted our conjoined hands turning into a blank stare. She leaned against her running dishwasher, legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over her chest, waiting.

"Sorry," Edward said. "But I am. I knew you'd be like this. That's why I wanted to tell you while Dad was still at work. I want to tell him by himself, too."

Esme pursed her lips and kind of narrowed her eyes.

"What if you're not ready?" she asked calmly, a contemplative question.

"What if?" he asked balefully, then shook my hand off, his voice raising. "I can't _do_ that—if I never do anything because I might not be ready, then I'll never do anything! I can't keep waiting to start my life, Ma. I lost two years. I'm fucking tired of wasting time, and I've given up complete control over every damned thing that happens to me. I'm over it. I want my life back."

"Preparing yourself is not time wasted," Esme said, patiently but sharply, and it was plain to see these conversations happened pretty often around here. I've witnessed a few myself.

"I didn't survive this shit to come back and live like a victim forever," he said hotly. "So stop trying to keep me one."

"Edward, you know that is ridiculous. I don't want you to be a victim, I want you to be happy," Esme said sadly. "If it doesn't work, I don't want to have to watch you beat yourself up over it. It's better just to wait and-"

"Yeah, well, I won't come crawling back here if it doesn't work," he said, and it was meant to hurt her, surely. But Esme just sighed and dropped her hands.

"You can always come back here. But why risk anything by moving too soon?"

"Who says it's too soon? You?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, jerking his chin at her.

"Yes. Me," Esme said, nodding, her hands on her hips now. I took a step back, ready to escape the escalating awkwardness. I really thought they should have privacy for this particular blow-out.

"Stop," they both said to me at the same time.

He reached out and took my hand, then looked down at me.

"I just wanted to give you guys some space," I said quietly.

"You're in this, too," Esme said. "Do your parents know about this?"

"Her parents don't get to dictate where I live, and it's not like I'm shacking up with her. Everyone already knows everything about my body, Mom. You might as well know I am an embarrassing, emasculating degree away from having sex," he said, and my jaw unhinged but Esme just stared at him, looking pretty used to his shocking claims before he continued. "And you're just going to grasp at anything here. It's useless. I have a life. I'm going to live it, and that's all there is to it."

"And I want you to!" she said. "More than anything! But I want you to do it with caution and consideration and remember that you _do_ have a whole life in front of you so you _don't_ have to rush into anything." He laughed without humor, shaking his head from side to side.

"Ma, I make decisions slowly these days, haven't you noticed? I think really fucking hard about everything I do before I do it because I don't get to be a carefree asshole anymore, and that's okay. But _don't_ say I'm making a rushed decision when I put more thought into everything than most people. All I do is _think _about everything, so don't you dare sit here and tell me I rush. Give me credit, because I deserve it. I know when to go slow and I know what I can and cannot handle." Esme's face started to crumple, and Edward noticed it straight away since he had just been glaring at her, getting closer and closer. "I get that it's hard for you to let me go. I get what my empty bedroom means to you now. I get that you'll be worried, and I'm sorry for that. I really am, but I can't pause because you're not ready."

"What makes you so sure you're so ready?" she asked, sniffling but not quite crying.

I expected him to say, "I'm _not_ sure but I have to try" or "I know I'm sure because I'm sure" or maybe just the old "pfff" stand-by.

What I did not expect was the complete look of offense and insult and pissed that overtook him as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"I know," he said, low and slow. "you have sat through depositions and therapy sessions and have heard every word of what I recounted. I know you think you know how it was…but nobody but me has any idea of exactly what kind of hell that was. I lived it and I got out, and I am still breathing." He pointed his finger at his mother as he continued. "In the meantime, you have my name on a plaque on a bench. You counted me out once, and now you're doing it again."

"I never-" she said incredulously, her eyes wide and filling with tears. Her voice rose as she continued. "I _never_ stopped-"

"The point is, I know what I'm capable of, even when the rest of the world doubts me. I know _exactly_ what I can overcome and how far I can push my own limits. And so when you ask me how I know I'm _sure_?" His smile, that smirk that isn't necessarily meant to be sweet but more to show he's a confident, smug thing resurfaced. "It's because I got through all of that. I know I can do _anything_."

I sat next to him in the car while he whipped us out of the driveway minutes later. I was shell-shocked; he was coming down from his fight with his mother.

"Should you leave her that way?" I asked.

"We need the space from each other. We both know that," he said. "That wasn't exactly an uncommon shit-show at my house."

We drove down the street, leaving things at his house messy and half-unfurled, but that is kind of how life was going to be. And I think it's how life is. Or at least, how our life will be. Some strings stay frayed or untied, always a work in progress.

The longer we drove, the calmer he became, easing down into the seat, fiddling with the radio and digging for the ever-present package of Trident in the console.

"You're strong," I commented.

"I know."

It wasn't one of those "but you came out stronger so it was worth it" things. Edward would have found his bravery and strength and confidence anyway. He would've. Shit happened, and there is nothing that can be done to change it, so you go with it; you live with it.

And over and over and over, Edward chooses to live. That's how I was sure, too.

Of him.

Of what we were doing.

He chooses to live. For himself, for the things he wants and will do, for those whose shoes he's walked in that cannot or will never for themselves, Edward chooses to _really_ live.

**xxxxx**

Edward drives us- not in a rusty pick-up truck, but in a used Volvo his parents bought him- to an off-road field that could hold only bad memories, but somehow, it doesn't. It has horrific and wonderful memories, and we don't avoid. We go forward.

Edward put his hand, palm up, on my thigh and wiggled his fingers until I placed my hand on his.

My feet wedged under his thigh.

I ran a finger over his Adam's apple.

Then—

"Oh my God, stop it," he laughed, catching my hand.

"Just making sure you're not a dream."

"That's _terrible_," he said. "It's a good thing you don't actually have to use pick-up lines. You'd get nowhere."

The boys are out in the field, and it will be one of the last times, for awhile anyway. Our days are dwindling here, and that is bittersweet.

Emmett is going to play ball at U-Dub, and he will be doing it without his pitcher wing-man.

Rosalie is off to Oregon. She told me they'll give long-distance a go, and maybe they'll break up, but when I asked why she wasn't so upset about that she laughed and said, "Bella. Even if we break up, we're going to end up together. I think that's obvious at this point."

Jess, Mike and Jasper are going to California. Mike will go to school and Jess wants to get her cosmetology license. Jasper claims he'd like to open a lunch truck and learn how to surf.

Underlying all of our discussions about the future and the "when you get there, call me"s, there's this eagerness laced with wistful sadness. l know you can make plans but sometimes, they just don't work out.

"It'll be good," Jess was saying, twisting off a cap on a bottle of beer, which I declined when she offered me one. Edward doesn't drink anymore, and he says he's used to people around him drinking—that he has to be— but I won't either. Solidarity and all that. "I think Cali will be a fresh start for us."

I glanced at Rose and she rolled her eyes.

"Jessica, he is going to do the same shit there. With like, a whole new, untapped pool of retail chicks to hit on. Have you seen the malls in LA? Like, that place called the Grove or something is where _famous_ people shop. _US Weekly_ wouldn't lie about that."

Jess opened her mouth then closed it before sighing.

"I know, okay?" she said.

"Don't go with him," Rosalie said. "Or go, just go with Jasper or go alone."

"Here's where it gets sick," Jessica said, lowering her voice, so Rose and I leaned in. "He promised he would stop this shit, and for like, six weeks, he did."

"Really?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"Yes. And I was bored out of my mind," Jessica said. "I like having to hang onto him, I think. I'm like, addicted to the drama."

"No shit." Rose said flatly.

"Shut up. It's news to me," Jess shrugged.

"You're such a mess," I laughed.

"I know. It's wild," she said, waving it all off before sipping her beer.

There was clatter and whooping coming from the field- the boys or men, now, I suppose, were pseudo-arguing about Mike pitching a ball that was out of bounds, but according to Mike and Jasper, not out of bounds. Or a foul or whatever they called it.

"The ball landed past the hat!" Emmett hollered, pointing down at the hat set up in place as a boundary. "Are you blind?"

"Liar! McCarty tells lies!" Jasper called out, pointing at Emmett, like he was six years old. "Does U-Dub know you told such lies to get that scholarship?"

"You're such an asshole," Emmett laughed, slapping Jasper's finger down. "Come on, ladies. We need you for boundary markers."

"Oh, what a dream job for a girl," Rosalie said, hand to her forehead in a mock swoon before slowly flicking her wrist up, then her middle finger.

Jess, Rose and I ended up making a half a diamond around the boys, shouting and heckling at them at any given opportunity, particularly Jessica, tossing out filthy words about Jasper's mom and flicking peanuts at Edward.

On Mike's fourth bad pitch, Emmett dropped the bat and Edward groaned from his position as catcher.

"I can't play with amateurs anymore," Emmett declared, fists on his hips. Jasper swooped in and picked up the bat.

"I can. Put her here, big guy," he called out to Mike.

Things went slow and fast then, all horseplay and foul words, laughter and running, like kids—but almost-adults, kind of saying good-bye.

I laughed from my spot just on the edge of the outfield, watching, simply thrilled to just be.

I looked at each of my friends- I mean, I really looked, and in them, I saw the strongest parts of myself reflected back. All of these pieces that had held me up and put me in my place. All of my weaknesses and my strengths, right there, sort of playing baseball and goofing off and being carefree. My smile was closed but so, so wide, and my eyes started to water, my chest suffused with that feeling. You know the one? That feeling when everything is so close to perfect- when you know you are loved and loved back, and not just by the person you hold in your heart. It was one of those moments that at the time, you're quite certain it's a Moment. That you're going to remember it days and years and lifetimes later, always.

After all we had been through, not just me and Edward, but all of us- here we were, right back where we'd started before it all went to pot. But, well. Not so much.

Sure, we were older now. That wasn't the difference.

We were different now, the entire _world_ was different now.

We'd lost our innocence, each of us in different ways. It'd been replaced with the kind of knowledge that the jaded or wounded carry, only we shouldered our burden happily. That was the difference. We were the lucky ones, and we knew it. We lived the worst kinds of things, the kind no one ever wants to contemplate much less live through. But... we know of better things now, too. Miraculous things.

We'd survived a nightmare, then a miracle, the the destructive and heart-bruising consequences of both.

We approach with caution now, but nowhere near like then. We always keep dangers and nightmares just outside of the edges of the periphery. Whether it's because it's the smart thing to do or because we'll never completely forget doesn't matter—that's just the way it is.

"All right, back up," Edward was saying, after he's swiped the mitt off of Mike's hand.

"Show 'em how it's done, son!" Emmett called, and Rosalie and Mike and Jasper and Jessica clapped and shouted, but as we all repositioned ourselves, a quiet fell over the night sky.

I watched Emmett, his face taking on a quiet and sobering expression. He crouched low into to his catching position, mitt poised, eyes on his pitcher—and I knew right then. Maybe it was the sudden stillness and weight the night had taken on, or maybe it was the hello and goodbye written in Emmett's expression. With tears stinging at my lids and the throb in my chest, I knew this would be the last time for them.

Edward stood on the makeshift mound, not even a mound at all, really. There would never be an official pitcher's mound under his feet, but that didn't matter. Those big shoes have walked through heavier soil, some much better and some unbearable.

From my angle, he was right under the moon when he stood straight and rolled his shoulders back once. He looked over his shoulder at me.

That smile ticked up on the left side and he stared a beat longer before his profile dropped, his eyes blinked slow and he swung back, winding up. I could think of a hundred and one things about moonlight shining and love and miracles and their consequences and second chances and heartbreak, but it's only his eyes I think of in this moment.

They always carried something darker now, and I supposed they would forever. There were things inside of him I'm sure I didn't know of and couldn't understand. Internal scars he bore but never mentioned. Certain nightmares can change a person forever. They re-route lives and steal a certain trust in the world that can never be regained. Sometimes, those dark traces in his eyes would be a black abyss and sometimes, they would be nearly imperceptible.

It was interesting, because as plain as it was to see something heavy and layered and sorrowful in his eyes, that light he carried was never lost. Not only had it remained but it was impossibly brighter; his fire his hope and wonder and strength were now a stark contrast to the depths of horror only he knows. So of course, when he shines, he shines even brighter now.

The end.

**Wow hey yeah, the end. Thanks for reading this story! I don't know how many times I can say you guys are awesome and that I really didn't think anyone would read this, so like... thank you.**

**I'll see ya when I see ya.**

**-TB**


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